Heaven Can Bloody Well Wait
by 1note
Summary: Ssn 6 AU. Spuffy fic. Buffy's return from Heaven might not have been as unwilling as everyone believed. It wasn't all just mindless bliss up there. Buffy watched over her friends, her family. She learned things about their lives they never even told her. One life in particular... Follows each episode of Season 6.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**A/N: **My first Spuffy fic! :-) The first couple of chapters are gonna be a tad short, but once I get farther into the season, they'll get a bit meatier. (At least, I hope so.) This story follows the entire run of Season 6. It'll be mostly canon in the beginning, but as it progresses it will become more AU. Hope you like it!

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Here lies resting, out of breath,_

_Out of turns, Elizabeth_

_Whose quicksilver toes not quite_

_Cleared the whirring edge of night._

_Earth whose circles round us skim_

_Till they catch the lightest limb,_

_Shelter now Elizabeth_

_And for her sake trip up death._

-_Little Elegy_ by X.J. Kennedy

Time didn't mean anything anymore. All was stillness, and warmth, and comfort. She drifted in this womb-like state for eons, without care or worry duty to weigh her down. There was no loneliness, but she was alone, and after a while, her thoughts quested outward, wondering if she was all there was. That was how she found them; everyone she'd left behind. She saw them all. Willow, Giles, Xander, Dawn. Anya and Tara and Spike. She witnessed all they experienced in her absence. Saw them grieve, and fight, and keep the ever-growing tide of demons at bay. For a while she was content to simply watch, but then she began to try other things.

She found herself able to focus on a single individual, seep into their minds until she knew and felt everything they did, as if she _was_ them. She also discovered that she could travel back through the span of their lives, see and experience everything from birth to present time. She did this with all of them, but again and again was drawn to one life in particular. To Spike. She really couldn't say why, at least at first, but something kept pulling her attention to him. She learned so much about him, all those years of blood and destruction, the loneliness and unrequited love. She experienced firsthand the agonizing moment when, as the human William, he opened his heart to the aloof Cecily, only to have it shattered by her cruel words. She felt the anguish that drove him out into the night where he met Drusilla, who transformed his life forever. She saw it all, from moments of extreme depravity to sweet tenderness, from callous indifference to genuine compassion.

She was wrong; vampires _could_ feel. Emotions were not seated in the soul. Being here, in this warm, safe place, gave her the clarity to see what should have been obvious. After all, animals had no souls, and they still had feelings. Animals were innocent, yet capable of the most brutal acts. The difference was, they couldn't feel guilty. Because that's what the soul was, really; the conscience. It wasn't that demons were evil so much as they weren't capable of understanding right from wrong. They didn't understand the concept of guilt. This didn't make her actions as the Slayer wrong; the demons she killed were a danger to humanity, like rabid dogs. They might not be totally responsible for their natures, but they still had to be dealt with if they proved themselves a threat.

Knowing all this gave her a new perspective on Spike's actions over the last year. She'd dismissed his love as nothing more than obsession. The incident when he chained her up and threatened to sic Dru on her if she didn't return his feelings only seemed to reinforce this impression. But now she knew, his lack of a soul to guide him, combined with an extremely limited romantic life—first the insane Drusilla for over a century, then the idiotic Harmony—meant that Spike honestly didn't know how to go about showing how he felt for her in a healthy way.

Even when he made a real effort to do good, she'd only shown contempt—

_"You want credit for not feeding off bleeding disaster victims? You're disgusting!"_

—treating him with none of the basic compassion she would have shown even the least likeable human. Even though she hadn't returned his feelings, she knew now that she should have let him down easier. Shouldn't have said the things she did—

_"You're beneath me."_

—just because he was a vampire.

She knew him now. Knew everything about him. She saw him at his best and his absolute worst. She understood him now with perfect clarity. And for the first time since her death, her peaceful rest was tinged with regret.

Spike's most recent experiences were the most painful for her to witness. He changed so much in those few months. His grief over her death consumed every second. The only way he could sleep without the dreams of her to haunt him was to drink himself into a stupor day after day, while his nights were spent patrolling with the Scoobies and watching over Dawn. He kept up a stoic front for Dawn's sake, when in reality he was barely keeping it together. There were times when the only reason he didn't dust himself was because of his promise to Buffy to look after her sister.

He was so alone.

_I'm here..._

Sometimes he swore he could almost feel her with him, and he didn't know if it was worse than not feeling her at all.

It started with a tug. It grew to a steady pull, then a sudden yank that threatened to hear her out of her safe place. She fought it, clawed back and tried to anchor herself. This strange force was relentless. She felt herself slipping and dug herself in tighter.

What was happening?

It was like a tether pulling her away. Her mind followed it to its source...

Willow. She was trying to bring her back. Back to the fighting and the duty and the bloodshed. Away from this place of love and acceptance.

_Back to Dawn. Back to Xander and Willow and Giles. Back to Spike. Spike..._

Willow was starting to falter. The spell's hold on her weakened. If she held on, she could stay. Or she could let go. It was her choice now.

_Dawn. Spike._

She let go.


	2. Chapter 2: Bargaining

**A/N: **This one's pretty short as well, but the next one will finally have Buffy and Spike together, so it'll be much longer.

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_My life closed twice before its close-_

_It yet remains to see_

_If Immortality unveil_

_A third event to me_

_So huge, so hopeless to conceive_

_As these that twice befell._

_Parting is all we know of heaven,_

_And all we need of hell._

-Emily Dickenson

She was in Hell. This had to be Hell.

From the moment she woke in the dark, to clawing her way though the choking dirt, to the fires and the chaos that greeted her on the surface, everything pointed to Hell.

There were demons riding motorcycles, wielding clubs and knives. She saw herself—or something that looked like her; she vaguely remembered a robot—brutally ripped to pieces. She ran, but everywhere was the same. There was no safety anywhere.

Her thoughts were all jumbled. She didn't understand what was happening. She couldn't remember, or couldn't make sense of what she did remember. It was all so confusing. She had to find someone. That's why she was here; she knew that, at least. She needed to find them.

Two faces: a young girl with long brown hair, and a man, unnaturally white-blonde, a scar on his left eyebrow. Their names wouldn't come, but she knew these two. Knew them in her bones. She needed them, and they needed her.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been searching when she encountered a group that wasn't demons. She knew their faces, could put names to them. Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara. Her friends. But their voices grated on her too-sensitive ears. And those stares, so heavy with hope and neediness, she felt like she might collapse from the weight of them. They weren't the ones she had to find. She tried to put some distance between herself and them, but they followed. And then the demons came.

She'd forgotten how much it hurt. The fighting. It felt like the violence was all there was, that it would never end. She fought and bled and bruised, and still they kept coming. But she didn't stop, didn't give in, even though death would have brought her back to that beautiful place she was taken from. She fought until, finally, there were no more attacks. There was just her and the four others.

"Buffy's back!"

She flinched at the excited voice. It was too much. She couldn't handle another moment with them. She needed to find...

She ran away, ignoring the worried cries behind her.

It was hard to know whether it was chance or some kind of instinct that brought her to the place where she died. The tower still stood in all its rickety glory. She gazed up at it, remembering. This was the last place she saw the ones she came back for. Were they still here, waiting for her?

So lost in her muddled thoughts, she didn't notice how treacherous the climb was. Flashes of memories intruded as she ascended. The last fight with Glory. The portal opening. Her little sister looking so vulnerable in her sacrificial gown and bare feet, bleeding from shallow cuts to her belly. And Spike. Where was Spike? He fell. That old man stabbed him and he fell. She remembered absently pushing the man over the side, too intent on reaching her sister to even spare him a glance.

No one was here now. She was alone, standing on the edge of the platform, wondering if she should jump again. Did she want the pain to end that badly?

Someone was talking to her. She heard the desperation in their voice.

"Is it you? Really?"

The platform lurched beneath them. She stumbled towards the edge.

"No! Don't! Don't jump, Buffy. Don't move."

She turned, saw the young girl huddled against a steel beam. She knew this girl. This girl was...important. Special.

"I'm your sister. Dawn?"

Dawn. One of the ones she came back for. But where was the other? Where did he go?

Dawn was still talking, but the words didn't mean anything to her. She couldn't focus. The tower creaked ominously.

"Talk to me," the girl pleaded, "Say something."

"Is...is this Hell?" she asked, her voice weak from disuse.

"What?"

She turned to face her sister. "Is this Hell?"

Dawn shook her head. "No! Buffy, no. You're here, with me. Whatever happened to you, whatever you've been through, it's...it's over now. You're—_ah!_" Dawn squeaked as the tower gave another violent shudder. "We have to get off of this tower!"

She turned around and gazed down at the concrete far below. "It was...here," she murmured, "in this spot. I remember how...shiny and clear everything was. But, now..."

"Buffy," the girl begged, "Please. You told me I had to be strong. And I've tried. But it's been so hard without you," her voice broke, "Stay with me. Please, I need you to live."

The tower suddenly shook hard enough to knock Dawn off her feet. "Buffy!"

It was that cry, helpless and afraid, that finally broke through the fog in her mind. She rushed to the girl's side and the two of them barely managed to get off the tower before the whole structured collapsed on itself. Safe on the ground, Dawn hugged her and sobbed, "You're home."

"I'm home," Buffy softly agreed. Even though she didn't feel it.


	3. Chapter 3: After Life

**A/N: **Finally, we start getting to the good stuff! Spike and Buffy, reunited. :-D

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_An object of curiosity to some,_

_But you are preoccupied_

_By the secret smudge in the back of your soul_

_To say much, and wander around_

-_Just Walking Around_ by John Ashbery

Buffy was like a traumatized child. Dawn had to act as the grownup and took care of her older sister. Cleaned her, gave her a change of clothes. She offered words of comfort and encouragement the whole time, but Buffy hardly reacted. It was like her sister was sleepwalking. The lack of recognition, or any kind of reaction for that matter, to her familiar surroundings troubled the teenaged girl. She hoped this was only temporary, not some form of brain damage.

Dawn was helping Buffy button her shirt when the sound of the front door slamming startled the traumatized woman.

"It's okay," Dawn was quick to reassure her.

"Dawn!"

The girl winced guiltily on hearing the familiar voice call her name. In all the excitement of finding out Buffy was back and looking for her, she'd forgotten all about Spike. The poor vampire must've been frantic.

"It's okay. It's just Spike."

"Spike?" The name finally brought a reaction from her sister. A flicker of...something. Dawn took that as a good sign.

"Yeah. C'mon. He's gonna want to see you." Dawn took Buffy's arm and gently led her out of the bedroom and to the stairs. "Wait here a sec. I'm gonna try to break the news to him slowly." Dawn left her sister on the landing and quietly descended until the distraught vampire came into view.

On seeing the teen come down the steps, Spike's expression morphed from concern to relieved anger. "Thank god! You scared me half to death. Well, _more_ to death," he amended before switching back to anger mode. "You," he jabbed an accusing finger towards her, "I could kill you."

"Spike..."

"I mean it! I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brainstem."

Dawn, less than intimidated, turned to beckon to someone behind her. "Look."

A familiar figure came down the steps with a little more care than necessary. Spike scoffed, thinking it was the 'bot at first. But then he looked closer, and he knew. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open. His dead heart lurched in his chest.

"It's Buffy," Dawn told him, unnecessarily, "She's ba-"

Buffy abruptly dashed down the remaining stairs and flung her arms around the stunned vampire. Spike and Dawn shred astonished looks as Buffy murmured something over and over. Dawn wasn't sure, but she thought it sounded like, "found you."

Spike stood frozen for a moment, then slowly dared to put his arms around the woman's slight form. "Hey...Slayer," he half-whispered, "It's alright now. You're safe."

"I know."

Dawn smiled at the image of her sister and Spike embracing. She'd always thought Buffy was stupid for dismissing the vampire's affections. Sure, Spike did plenty of bad things in the past, but he'd changed, and not just because of the chip. He was a good guy, now. But no one else seemed to see that, least of all Buffy. Now it looked like coming back from the dead had given her a different opinion of him.

Spike reluctantly disentangled himself to get a better look at the resurrected Slayer. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, pausing at her hands. He reached down to gently grip them in his own, bringing them closer to examine the bloodied knuckles.

"I was gonna fix them," Dawn said, "I don't know how they got like that."

"I do. Clawed her way out of her coffin, that's how." Spike met Buffy's eyes. "Isn't that right?" he asked in a softer tone.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah."

"I've done it myself." His mouth twisted in a rueful smile. "Not one of my favorite memories."

Buffy shuddered at the thought of tons of earth pressing down on her. Sensing her discomfort, Spike gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "We'd better see to these. Dawn, get some, uh, mercurochrome and bandages."

Dawn nodded and hurried off to get them while Spike led Buffy over to a chair. He sat on the coffee table in front of her, still holding her hands. He hadn't taken his eyes off her, as if afraid she might disappear if he looked away even for a second. If Buffy was unnerved by his attentiveness, it didn't show.

"How long was I gone?" she asked.

"One hundred and forty-seven days yesterday," Spike answered without hesitation, "One hundred and forty-eight today. Except today doesn't count, does it?"

That smile, the way he looked at her, that fact that he kept count of each day she was gone, all told her so much more than his words. Buffy wanted to hug him again, but realized such out-of-character behavior might worry him. He looked worried enough. She settled for continuing to hold his hands.

Spike absently brushed his thumbs across the backs of her fingers, just below the scraped knuckles. "How long was it for you? Where you were?"

Buffy lowered her eyes in thought. An eternity? A second? There was no way to describe how time worked wherever she was. The words were meaningless. "Longer," she finally answered.

Dawn returned with the first aid supplies, but before they could use them the front door burst open and the distraught Scoobies poured in. They moved like a swarm towards Buffy, their chattering voices drowning each other out. Spike's hands released hers and Buffy looked up to see the vampire stalk away, unnoticed by the others. She wanted to call him back. Wanted him to shield her from her friends' well meaning assault. Their rapid-fire questions and so concerned stares overwhelmed her senses. It was Dawn who finally stepped in and told the others to back off. Once things quieted enough, Buffy got to her feet and muttered an excuse about the need for sleep before making her escape upstairs to her bedroom. She closed the door with a grateful sigh, shutting out the noise and the light. The dark and quiet were a relief to her overwrought senses. Everything was too much. Harsh and noisy and glaring. She missed the peace of the place she was before.

She wandered over to the window and peered out into the night. She saw Spike standing by the same tree where he used to hold vigil on her house during his stalking days. He was talking to Xander and Anya. It didn't look like a friendly conversation, especially when Spike suddenly pinned Xander against the tree. Buffy heard him raise his voice, not enough to make out words, but she heard the anguish in it. Buffy pressed her hand to the windowpane, wanting to call out to him. Her heart sank when she saw Spike turn away and storm off to his newly acquired motorcycle. She didn't know why, but she wanted him to stay. When he held her hands before, all the anxiety had leaked away. Now it was back with a vengeance.

Buffy was tempted to climb out of her window and go to Spike's crypt. She doubted she'd get any sleep tonight, anyway.

But, no. What if Dawn came in to check on her? She'd be so upset if Buffy wasn't there. She couldn't put her sister through that. Or Willow and Tara, who she just recalled now lived here. So, Buffy resigned herself to a restless night—made more so by what turned out to be a demon Willow had unwittingly summoned with her resurrection spell.

Buffy knew she should help her friends figure out how to deal with the demon, but she just couldn't motivate herself to do so. She felt disconnected from everything. Part of her wondered if she came back wrong. It was either that or garden-variety depression. Either possibility seemed equally bad.

Nightfall brought the perfect excuse to get out of the house in the form of patrolling. Buffy spent a couple of hours wandering the cemeteries without running into a single vampire. Maybe word got out that she was back and they were all laying low. Probably for the best since her heart wasn't in it. Buffy's feet kept pulling her in the direction of Restfield, and she finally stopped resisting. She wanted to see Spike again. He'd been upset when he left the night before and she felt the need to check on him. When he got upset, he tended to get self-destructive.

Buffy's footsteps quickened as the familiar crypt loomed into view. She hesitated at the door, wondering if she should knock. He might not even be in, she told herself. She opened the door, stepped into the crypt's dark interior. It was different from what she remembered. Spike had furnished the place. There were a couple of chairs and a couch, patched with duct tape. A fridge, a TV. But no Spike.

_Probably at Willy's,_ she thought with a disappointed sigh. She wandered around the crypt, her still oversensitive eyes making out most of the details without trouble. She heard a noise and turned to see Spike come into view. The vampire paused in surprise. "Buffy?"

He approached her with care, like he thought she might bolt if he made any sudden moves. "You should be careful. Never know what kinda villain's got a knife at your back." He held up a large blade for emphasis. Buffy noticed the wet gleam of blood on his knuckles.

"Your hand is hurt."

Spike glanced at it, looked at her. "Same as you."

"Right." She self-consciously tucked her hands behind her.

Spike was nervous, and this made Buffy nervous. She missed the comfortableness they'd experienced the night before in her house. But then, maybe shock had a lot to do with that. Now the shock was worn off.

"Uh, you can sit." Spike indicated one of the chairs. He put away the knife and went to sit on the large steamer trunk where the TV sat. It was farther away from Buffy than she liked, but the distance seemed to put the vampire at ease. The silence became a bit less awkward.

Buffy could tell he wanted to get something off his chest. She sat quietly, content to wait. When Spike began to talk, she listened with complete attention. He talked about the night she died, about the promise he made to protect Dawn, and his failure to do so. He told her how he thought about that moment every night, how he could have made it right, plotting different scenarios in his head and letting them play out to their everybody-lives conclusions.

"Every night I save you."

Buffy's heart broke at those words. She rose from her seat and went to him, took his injured hand in both of hers. Their eyes met. She saw in his blue depths surprise, sadness, loneliness, and so much love. Not the intense, frightening love he showed a year ago, but love tempered by loss and time. Buffy's hand rose of its own accord and rested against his cheek. Spike's breath hitched at her light touch. He hesitated, then raised his free hand to rest against hers on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his haunted eyes drifting closed. "Buffy..."

For the first time since coming back, Buffy smiled. It was a little smile, but genuine. Spike opened his eyes and smiled in turn. He straightened, brought both her hands to his lips, and kissed them softly. "I missed you so bloody much."

"I missed you, too," she whispered. At his startled look, she smiled that little smile again and asked, "Will you patrol with me tomorrow?"

He stared at her for a second, then nodded. "Whatever you want, luv."

Buffy reluctantly drew her hands from his. "I'd better head back. Everybody's so nervous about me. Probably call out a search party if I stay out much longer."

"Right." Spike didn't bother hiding his disappointment. "So, tomorrow night, then?"

She nodded, then turned and headed for the door. When she was gone, Spike's body slumped, his brow furrowed in thought. Something was different. He didn't think it could all be blamed on psychological trauma. The way she was acting around him wasn't the clingy or desperate way he would have expected. It was as if she had feelings...

No, he wasn't falling into that pit trap again. He'd deluded himself last year into thinking his love for her was returned, that she just wouldn't admit it. He knew now it wasn't true. She never loved him. She might have felt something approaching friendship towards him near the end, but never love.

That's all she was looking for now. A friend. Somebody who wouldn't pressure her like the Scoobies did. A shoulder to cry on. Well, he could be that for her, if that was what she needed. And if they came out of it just friends, he'd consider that a win.

* * *

The sense of peace from being with Spike lingered until Buffy got home. That was when the demon attacked her.

_"You don't belong here."_

The things it said in its raw voice were far worse than the physical blows. They touched on all of her fears, the feelings she had since her resurrection. The demon knew.

_**"**__You're the one who's barely here. __You sit on this earth like a bubble. __You won't even disturb the air when you go."_

Even after she killed it, the words stayed.

Buffy made a show of acting normal. When morning came, bright and clear, she made Dawn a bagged lunch and sent her off to school. She met with the Scoobies at the Magic Box and told them what they wanted to hear. That she was rescued from Hell. That she was grateful they brought her back. That she was okay now.

_"Did they tell you you belonged here?"_

And they believed her, because they wanted to. Their joy in her lies was too much for her to handle. As soon as she was able to pry herself away from their embraces she stepped out he shop's backdoor into the alley. The harsh sunlight pierced her sensitive eyes and she hurried to the nearest spot of shade.

"Buffy."

She looked up in surprise to find Spike leaning casually against some old packing crates. "Spike? It's daylight, and you're-"

"Not on fire?" He smiled, nodded skyward. "Sun's low and it's shady enough here. I was gonna go inside, but I overheard you and the Superfriends exchange your special moment. Came over a bit queasy."

Buffy knew the feeling, though likely for different reasons.

_"Were you offered pretty lies, little girl?"_

But the pretty lies were all hers.

"Say, aren't you leaving a hole in the middle of some sodding group hug?" Spike's question jolted her from her reverie. Buffy wandered over to the crates and sat down on the one beside him.

"Just wanted a little time alone."

Spike's expression fell into disappointment. "Oh. Right, then." He began to stand.

Buffy touched his arm. She barely held herself back from grabbing him. "I can be alone with you here."

Spike relaxed back onto his seat. "Thanks ever so much. Didn't fancy workin' on my tan." He tried to hide the thrill he felt at her touch. Just a friend, he reminded himself. He looked at her. Her eyes were downcast, her back slightly bowed like she was carrying a great weight. "Buff...Slayer. Are you okay?"

It was a question that had been plaguing her all day from well-meaning friends. She couldn't bring herself to mutter the same platitudes to Spike.

"Buffy," Spike said in a gentler voice, "if you're in pain, or if you need anything, or if I can do anything for you..."

She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. She saw no pity in him, only concern. She licked her dry lips before answering, "I told them I was in Hell."

Spike frowned slightly, then his expression cleared as he began to understand. "You lied."

Buffy nodded. "I lied."

"Where were you?

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "I was happy. Wherever I was, I was happy. At peace. Time didn't mean anything. Nothing had form, but I was still me, y'know? And I was warm, and I was loved, and I was finished. Complete. I think...I was in Heaven."

She saw it in his expression. He understood the truth and its awful implications.

"And now I'm not," she continued, "I was torn out of there. Pulled out by my friends. Everything here is hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel. Everything I touch. This is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that...knowing what I've lost..."

_"Or did they even give you a choice?"_

"Only...sometimes it feels like I did this to myself. It's all so jumbled in my head. The memories. Sometimes I think I was forced her and sometimes...I think I chose this. But I don't remember why. Everything's in pieces." She placed a hand to her forehead, rubbed it as if suffering a headache. A hand on her shoulder drew her attention back to the vampire at her side. None of her friends would have believed the compassion in his gaze, even if they'd seen it. But Buffy knew it was real.

"I'm sorry, luv."

"They can never know about this," she told him, emphatic, "Never."

"They won't hear it from me," he promised.

Buffy sighed. "I'd better head back in."

"Right." Spike slowly withdrew his hand from her shoulder. "We still on for tonight? Patrolling?"

Her smile was faint, but wasn't marred by sadness this time. "Yes."

Spike watched her go back into the Magic Box. To her well-meaning, idiotic friends.

"Sodding morons," he growled.


	4. Chapter 4: Flooded

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I am not I._

_ I am this one_

_Walking beside me whom I do not see,_

_Whom at times I manage to visit,_

_And at other times I forget._

_The one who remains silent when I talk,_

_The one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,_

_The one who takes a walk when I am indoors,_

_The one who will remain standing when I die._

_-I Am Not I_ by Juan Ramon Jimenez

Days into her resurrection, life was still Hell. Buffy's friends continued to watch her closely for any signs of strange behavior, which only pressured her into hiding her emotional turmoil. On top of that, the water pipes under the house all chose to fail at once, flooding the basement knee-deep. And there was no money to pay for the repairs. Medical bills and everyday expenses had quickly sucked away her mother's life insurance. Which meant Buffy needed to apply for a loan.

Once again she had to put on a mask of confidence she didn't remotely feel. Unemployed, with zero real-life experience, she had no idea what she was doing. It turned out winging it was not the best way to go about getting a loan. Buffy knew seconds into the interview that she would be rejected. It almost came as a relief when a bank clerk came flying through the office window, bringing Buffy's attention to the huge dino-looking demon causing mayhem in the lobby. Unfortunately, the creature got away. And the damned loan officer _still_ wouldn't give her the money!

"That's crazy!" Willow declared later that night while watching Buffy take her frustrations out on her punching bag, "They're all, like 'We won't give you the money unless you can prove you don't need it.' I mean, what kinda system is that?"

Buffy knew she should join in the banter, but couldn't muster the energy. She couldn't seem to connect with any of her friends since her return. Everything felt distant and awkward. And whenever she tried to make a joke—such as teasing Dawn about helping with the demonic research—it always fell flat. Then the looks would come. Those concerned, did-she-come-back-wrong stares she pretended not to notice.

She did feel a surge of emotion when Giles arrived, fresh off the plane from England. The fatherly warmth in his smile relieved her. And the quiet conversation they had in the training room was fairly low pressure. Giles had been moving on with his life. He didn't give any real details, but Buffy could tell, coming back to Sunnydale had not been in any of his plans. It made her feel guilty, like her miraculous coming back to life was an inconvenience to him, though he insisted that wasn't so.

"And how are you? Really?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You look tired."

"Eh. Nah. Fine," Buffy replied, trying to make it seem like no big deal. Giles obviously wasn't convinced.

"I mean, yeah, y'know, sleeping's hard, but just because of the whole waking-up-in-a-box thing."

"Well, you seem to be doing remarkably well under extreme circumstances. I'm proud of you."

For some reason, that only made her feel worse about her inability to adjust to living again. "Willow brought me back. I just lay there."

"I only meant-"

"I know what you meant," she hurried to assure him, "Just a little post-postmortem comedy."

Giles was kind enough to play along with a faint chuckle. Buffy decided to bring the conversation to an end, using her slayage practice as an excuse. Giles left the training room to help the Scoobies with their research.

Later that night, while setting up the living room couch for Giles to sleep on, Buffy talked to him about the money problems and her difficulties in figuring out...everything. Unlike her younger friends, Giles didn't get agitated by her words. He stayed calm and reassuring, saying all the right things to sooth her worries. Buffy was glad to know that her Watcher could still make her feel like, no matter how bad things were, they'd eventually get better.

That feeling of reassurance lasted until she went to stand outside on the back deck and overheard Giles berating Willow for her reckless use of such powerful magic. Buffy hugged herself, feeling worse the harsher her friends' voices became. She hated that this conflict between them was because of her.

A smoldering cigarette butt suddenly flicked into view. Buffy smiled and stamped it out. "Hello, Spike."

The blonde vampire emerged from the surrounding darkness. "You hear all that noise?" he asked, nodding towards the open window.

"Just enough to make me feel crappy," she sighed. She felt the knot of tension in her stomach loosen in the vampire's presence. Like Giles, he didn't pressure her to act normal. She could unburden herself without fear of wary looks or prying questions. "I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay so they don't worry. It's exhausting. And then..."

"Then that makes them worry even more," Spike finished for her. He climbed the steps onto the deck and moved to stand beside her. "You want me to take them out?" he asked suddenly, "It'd give me a headache, but I think I can thin the herd a little."

Buffy felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward of their own accord. Spike smiled. "Knew I could get a grin."

Buffy let out a breath, then sat down on the deck steps. After a moment, Spike did the same, his arms resting on his knees. They gazed out at the night together in companionable silence.

"Think it's too late to patrol?" Buffy wondered. She enjoyed patrolling with Spike. Even if they didn't talk, he still kept her mind off her ever increasing troubles.

"Only if you plan on sleeping some time tonight," was his wry answer. He turned to her, and even in the darkness his keen eyes made out the circles under her eyes. "How bad are the dreams?"

"Bad," she muttered, hugging herself.

"It'll pass." He wasn't patronizing her, she could tell. Buffy remembered he mentioned that he had to dig his way out of his own grave when he turned, just like she had. The fact that he spoke from experience helped her believe his words were true.

Buffy scooted closer to him, linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt him tense for a second, then slowly relax again. His body didn't radiate any heat, being undead and all, but he still breathed, even though he didn't need to. The steady rise and fall of his breaths lulled Buffy until her eyes started to close.

A loud crash and Dawn's terrified screams jolted Buffy from her light doze. She immediately leapt to her feet and rushed into the house, Spike close behind her. There they found Giles knocked out on the floor and the dino-demon from the bank robbery looming over a terrified Dawn. In the ensuing fight, Buffy winced at every broken piece of furniture and shattered lamp, until she and Spike managed to get the demon into the flooded basement where Buffy then beat the monster to death with a broken length of defecting plumbing pipe.

"Whoa," Spike declared once the mayhem was over, "You know this place is flooded?"

Buffy rolled her eyes.

* * *

Spike returned to his crypt as soon as the excitement died down. He and the Scoobies had developed a grudging respect for each other over the summer when he helped with the patrols, but since the Slayer's return, that seemed to have vanished. Now that the real hero was back, the neutered vampire was no longer welcome. Bloody hypocrites.

Spike spent the wee hours of the night sprawled in his chair in front of the TV, watching infomercials until he fell asleep. He jerked awake a few hours later to a loud tapping at his door. Puzzled and somewhat muzzy, he squinted at the crypt's high windows and saw from the angle of the light that it was morning. Who the bloody hell would be bothering him at this hour? Didn't they know this was the time for vampires to sleep? He got out of his chair and staggered over to the door, yanked it open. "This better be g-" He blinked in surprise as his sleep-deprived brain recognized the petite figure in front of him.

"Can I come in?" Buffy asked nervously.

"Uh, yeah." Spike moved aside to let her in, then shut the door, blotting out the harsh sunlight. "Something wrong?"

"Angel called. He knows I'm back."

The mention of his grandsire cause an involuntary growl to escape his throat. "What's the Great Poof want?"

"He asked to see me. I was headed for the bus depot, but...I wanted you to know first." Buffy fidgeted. "I didn't want you to worry about my not showing up for patrol tonight."

Spike felt a strange mix of emotions, ranging from surprise and silent delight that the Slayer even thought to show him any consideration, to burning jealousy at how a mere phone call from her ex-lover had her running to meet up with Captain Forehead.

"Sure you two have a lot to catch up on," he grated.

Buffy took a hesitant step closer. "I should be back sometime tomorrow. D'you...still wanna patrol with me then?"

Spike was tempted to make up some excuse as to why he couldn't, but who was he kidding? Even if she wound up prattling on about the broody vampire when she came back, Spike could not resist the chance to spend more time with the Slayer. Love's bitch to the bitter end. "Love to, pet."

He didn't miss the relief in her smile, which made him wonder.

"Great. Um, sorry if I woke you."

"It's fine." He mustered a smile for her. "Have a good trip."

With a final nod of thanks, Buffy turned and left the crypt. As the door closed behind her with an echoing thud, Spike abruptly marched over to the trunk where he stored his whiskey and pulled out a mostly full bottle. The took a heavy swig of the burning liquid, then took it with him down to the second level, where he finished it off while sprawled in his bed, feeling sorry for himself.


	5. Chapter 5: Life Serial

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Curgloft, confounded, and bumbaz'd,_

_On east and west by turns he gazed._

_As ship that's tost with stormy weather,_

_Drives on, the pilot knows not whither._

-William Meston

Buffy's meeting with Angel was a painfully strained affair. She remembered the feelings she had for him, was pretty sure they were still there, but couldn't seem to reach them. Like every other emotion since her return to life, there was a wall between her and her feelings. She couldn't reach them, couldn't touch them, couldn't connect with the man who she once believed was her one true love. And that made her feel weighed down with the sense that she'd somehow betrayed him. She tried to hide it, but of course, Angel picked up on it. His oh-so-silently hurt looks only made it worse. Buffy almost wish he'd yell at her or something. But, naturally, Angel would never do that. She always thought he was overly gentle with her before. Now he treated her like breakable crystal. It was a relief to finally go their separate ways.

Back home, Buffy found herself adrift, with no plans for her new lease on life. It was too late to enroll for college again, but Tara and Willow offered to let her sit in classes with them in order to get back into the swing of things until the next time she would be able to sign up. It didn't work out that way, though. The first (and, it turned out, only) class she sat through with Willow was so bewildering. The name of the class was apparently "Social Construction of Reality," and the instructor, Mike, led everyone on a rapid Q&A session. Buffy wasn't sure what those Q's and A's were about, exactly, since she didn't understand a word of it. Seriously, it was like they were talking a foreign language. By the time the class ended, Buffy's head was spinning so bad she didn't realize at first that time was somehow speeding up around her. It happened in spurts at first, spanning minutes and then an entire hour in which she missed the class she was supposed to attend with Tara. Then everything was zipping by so fast it was all a blur. She eventually (or quickly, depending on how you looked at it) discovered it was being caused by some kind of speck on her shirt. She didn't get a chance to look at it very closely before it poofed into nothingness in her hand.

"And what sucks the most is, nobody believes me!" she vented later that night on patrol, "Giles just started polishing his glasses and politely implying that maybe it was just stress." She kicked a pebble down the path she and Spike were walking between the graves of the cemetery. "He would've believed me before I died," she grumbled.

"What about Red and Glinda?" Spike asked, "They see anything?"

"No. They thought I just wandered off." Buffy heaved a sigh. "Maybe college isn't the thing for me right now."

"Any other plans lined up?" Spike asked.

"Xander offered to take me to the construction site tomorrow."

"So, from higher education to menial labor," the vampire smirked, "You plannin' to wear overalls?"

"Nooo. But I do get my own hardhat. Oh, and a toolbelt!"

Spike grinned. "Well, then you're all set."

A fledgeling chose that moment to leap out from behind a mausoleum. Spike sent it staggering with a well-aimed punch to the jaw and Buffy finished it off with a stake to the chest. "So, what d'you think?" she asked, waving away the dust cloud.

Spike reached down and plucked a daisy from a bouquet left on one of the graves. "I think," he said, tucking the blossom behind her ear, "those blue-collar blokes won't know what hit 'em."

The next morning, Buffy styled her hair into pigtails and tucked the daisy into the left one. For luck, she told herself. As charms went, it didn't work so well. Unless one counted a sudden attack by squid-faced demons that dissolved into grease stains when they died lucky.

"Nobody backed me up," Buffy lamented that night, "They said they didn't see anything. And I _saved_ their ungrateful butts from those demons!"

She and Spike were sitting on a stone bench not far from his crypt. Spike reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze. "You're not made for grunt work, anyway, luv. You'll do better with Anya at the Magic Box. Be around a higher class of people than those wankers."

"I really need the cash," Buffy rubbed her eyes tiredly, "Bills keep piling up. The plumbing still needs that full copper repipe thingy. And if I don't make a payment on the mortgage soon..." She let Spike pull her into a hug, her head tucked under his chin. Her ear was pressed against his chest; the lack of a heartbeat didn't faze her. "I'm in over my head."

A muscle in Spike's cheek jumped. He hated seeing the Slayer like this, scared and uncertain. He missed the confident young woman who used to rush headlong into danger with a quip on her lips and a stake in her hand. She shouldn't have to worry about something so mundane as finances.

"I can get the money for you," he offered.

Buffy leaned back just enough to look at him. "How're you gonna do that?"

"I have my ways," he smirked.

"Are these ways legal?"

"Probably best not to ask."

"In that case, no thanks. I'll take my chances with retail work." She snuggled against him again. "No offense, I'm not desperate enough to resort to one of your criminal schemes."

"None taken. The offer's open if you change your mind."

By the time her first and only day as a Magic Box employee ended, she was sorely tempted to take him up on his offer. She barged into Spike's crypt after a perfunctory knock and plopped herself down on the nearest coffin. "Retail bites."

Spike put aside the book he'd been reading and went to join her on the coffin. "No joy at the Magic Box, then?"

Buffy didn't bother to answer. She shrugged out of her denim jacket and draped it across her knees. "You still got that flask?"

Spike quirked a scarred eyebrow. "I thought you and bourbon were 'non-mixy.'"

"Right now, me and sobriety are even more non-mixy." She thrust her hand out in a gimme gesture.

"Hang on." Spike got up and walked over to one of the numerous trunks that dotted the crypt's living area. He removed a couple of mismatched shot glasses from it, got his flask from the pocket of his duster, then brought it all back to the coffin where Buffy waited. Buffy grabbed the flask from him while the vampire sat beside her and placed the two shot glasses between them. She proceeded to pour the drinks.

"This is gonna be great," she declared.

They each tossed back the first shots. Buffy's face scrunched up at the taste. "Bleeah!" She poured another round. "Life is stupid," she muttered.

Spike smiled and set his empty glass down. "I have a dim memory of that, yeah. But I didn't figure you were here cadging my whiskey 'cause life was full of blood and peaches."

Buffy fiddled with the newly filled shot glass in front of her. "There's this...thing. Someone's doing stuff to me. The speeding time and the demons, and now the same hour looping over and over and over at the Magic Box. Messing up my life. Except it was pretty messed already. Y'know, with school and jobs. Pretty bad even without the evil."

"So you just, what? Gonna let this whoever play you 'til he figures out what kills you?" Spike challenged.

"Giles is working on it."

The vampire scoffed, "Oh, good! 'Cause Giles wields the mighty force of library books."

"You'd do better?" Buffy quirked an eyebrow.

"Damn right! Hit the demon world. Ask questions, throw punches, find out what's in the air. It's fun, too."

"Not my kinda fun."

"Yeah, it is," Spike corrected, "And your life's gonna get a lot less confusing when you figure that out."

Buffy stared at him for a moment, then tried to laugh it off. "You have had _so_ too much to drink at this point. I am cuttin' you off." She gulped down her third—or was it fourth—whiskey. "Bleeah!"

Spike managed not to laugh at her antics. She was so damned cute. "You're not a schoolgirl. You're not a shop girl. You're a creature of the darkness. Like me."

Buffy looked at him, not sure how comfortable she was with the comparison.

"Try on my world," Spike suggested, "See how good it feels."

She frowned at the empty flask in her hand. "Are there drinks in your world?"

* * *

In retrospect, Spike probably should've put off introducing the Slayer to his world until after she'd sobered up. He didn't quite trust her ability to look after herself in her current state, so instead of going out to bust heads, he brought her to one of his preferred haunts where there was always a poker game going on. Ironically, the majority of his intel was gained during such games. Demons loved to talk. They gossiped worse than fishwives, especially around the poker table.

Unfortunately, Spike wasn't able to get much info out of the guys this time. Buffy's presence was an anomaly they weren't very comfortable with, which meant they were more tight-lipped than expected. Buffy, in the mean time, spent the whole time sitting in a corner looking bored while she worked her way through a bottle of whiskey Spike had gotten for her at the bar. The only time she showed anything approaching interest was when she realized they were playing for kittens. They were evil demons, for gods sake! She shouldn't have been so shocked. Spike kept count of the "bleeahs" he heard every few minutes and figured Buffy was more than halfway through the bottle by the time he won the pot.

Naturally, while Spike was collecting his furry winnings the accusations of cheating started to fly. It always happened after somebody won. Didn't matter that they were _all_ cheating.

But then the sore losers started to get personal.

"You'd better go, Spike. Things could get ugly," said the demon Spike thought of as Piranha-Face.

The Horntoad demon grumbled, "Got ugly the second he walked in. Him and his _human_." His scaled muzzle wrinkled in disgust.

"Yeah. Her skin's so tight, I don't even know how you can look at her!" Clem, the demon with a face like a shaved basset hound, declared with a shudder.

Spike abruptly stood, his stony expression intimidating enough to make Clem back up a step. The vampire could tolerate the occasional ribbing, but he wasn't about to let anyone cast aspersions on Buffy. "Better keep a civil tongue in your head when talking about the lady," he growled, "Or I just might rip it out for you."

The rest of the players got to their feet as well. "Leave your winnings and get out!"

"Yeah."

Spike sneered at the angry demons. "Ah, so it's a setup, innit. Squeeze a few quid out of the vamp. Well, I'll tell you what you didn't count on. Me and the bird." He nodded towards Buffy, hoping she was with it enough to play along.

"Bleeah!"

"You wanna fight?" he continued, "You face the two of us."

Buffy frowned, incredulous. "What? I'm not getting into a bar fight!"

Spike rolled his eyes in frustration.

"I'll beat 'em up for information, great," she shrugged, "but not to defend your right to gamble for kittens. Which, by the way, is stupid currency."

"They're delicious!" Piranha-Face exclaimed.

Buffy grimaced in disgust.

"C'mon, Slayer! Big fight's just what you need," Spike tried to cajole her.

"Forget it," she rose from her chair and walked unsteadily to the poker table, "I'm not playing by anyone else's rules anymore. I'm done." And with that, she grabbed the basket of winnings and dumped its mewling contents onto the floor.

"Hey, I won those!" Spike protested.

"Scamper! Be free, kittens!" Buffy waved, then staggered out of the room while the other players frantically tried to collect the kittens who were making a break for it.

Spike hurried after the Slayer, grabbed her arm when he caught up to her. "What's wrong, luv?" His voice was full of concern. These kind of antics weren't like her. It worried him.

"What's wrong? You were gonna help me," she jabbed an accusing finger at him, "You-you were gonna beat heads and...and fix my life! But you're completely lame." She struggled to put her jacket on. "Tonight _sucks_. And look at me! Look at stupid Buffy! Too dumb for college and...and Freak Buffy, too strong for construction work. And my job and the magic shop? I was bored to tears even before the hour that wouldn't end. And the only person I can stand to be around is a neutered vampire who cheats at kitten poker!"

"Oh, you saw the cheating, did you?" Spike's attempt at levity fell a little flat.

"Also," Buffy lifted her chin, "I think you're drunk." With that, she turned and stormed out of the bar.

Spike ground his teeth and slowly counted to ten. All in all, not the best date-that-wasn't-a-date. But at least she didn't break his nose.

He went after her once he calmed himself down, only to almost slam into her the second he stepped out the door. Buffy was staring at something across the street. "That van..."

Spike glanced at the nondescript black vehicle without interest. "You wanna steal a van, I'm with you, luv. But we have got the motorcycle."

"I've seen it before. At the construction site."

Well, that certainly changed things. Spike stayed by her side as they approached the van. The vampire liked to think he was prepared for just about anything, but that was before the giant red horned demon in a leather kilt suddenly leapt out with a ridiculous roar and stood before them with its meaty fists on its hips, clearly posing. "You have discovered me! But do not try to defeat me, for I have been testing you and I know your weaknesses. Ha-ha-ha!"

Spike snorted in laughter. Whoever this guy was obviously watched way to many Conan movies. Buffy looked on in drunken puzzlement, then knocked the creature down with a well-aimed jump kick, falling over herself in the process. Spike bent down to help her up.

"I'm okay! Get offa me!" Buffy slapped his hands away.

The demon, meantime, slowly got to its feet. "Well struck," it wheezed, "I call on the misty portal to my demon dimension, where I'll lay my head and gently die." It flung something down onto the pavement, which exploded into a cloud of smoke. Spike vaguely made out the creature's broad figure running away, but by the time the smoke cleared, he lost sight of it.

A wide-eyed Buffy pointed at the spot where the demon had stood. "He blew up. You see that?"

Spike didn't bother to correct her. "Yeah, I saw. He's gone."

"Gotta love it, y'know," Buffy nodded sagely, "Makes ya feel all powerful...strong..." Her expression suddenly turned queasy. "...kinda sick." She clapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the nearest wall where she doubled over and promptly emptied her stomach. Spike winced in sympathy and went to gently grip her shoulders in support.

"Oh god," Buffy groaned, "I'm gonna die."

"I think that's enough excitement for the night," Spike said as he helped her straighten, "Let's get you home, luv."

"Ugghhh. Whiskey...bad..." Buffy leaned heavily on the vampire as he led her to the motorcycle. She somehow managed to ride the whole way home without falling off it once.

When they got to the house, Giles opened the door as they were negotiating the walkway. The former Watcher was tight-lipped with disapproval, the brunt of which was directed at the vampire. As Spike passed the half-conscious Buffy to him, Giles hissed, "You have a lot of gall bringing her home in this condition."

"She needed to let off some steam," Spike argued, "Been under a lot of pressure lately, hasn't she?"

"There are better ways for her to relieve stress. Safer ways."

The vampire huffed, "She's fine. I was with her the whole time."

"My point exactly," Giles retorted. He threw the vampire a final scowl of condemnation, then carefully led the inebriated Slayer into the house, shutting the door firmly behind them. Spike glared, threw a two-fingered salute at the impassive door, then turned and headed back to his waiting motorcycle.


	6. Chapter 6: All The Way

**A/N:** Here's the latest chapter. Not sure if I'll be updating this weekend, so for now I'll wish you all happy reading and see ya on Monday! :-D

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Such as in thick depriving darkness,_

_Proper reflections of the error be,_

_And images of self-confusedness,_

_Which hurt imaginations only see;_

_And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils,_

_Which but expressions be of inward evils_.

-_Sonnet 100_, by Lord Brooke Fulke Greville

Halloween, and the Magic Box had never seen more business than it did that day. It was so busy, they could barely keep up with the help of all the Scoobies. Anya was in capitalist heaven.

"Everything on this table's half-off. Including the table." "Buy one eyeball, get the second one free!"

Buffy was toting a box of candles when the enterprising ex-demon rollerskated over to her. "Buffy! We're running low on mandrake root. Check the basement."

_Could've said please_, Buffy thought, then remembered it was Anya. At least she was on her way down to the basement anyway.

It was blessedly quiet compared to the hustle and bustle on the shop floor. Buffy reached the bottom of the steps and took a sharp turn to the right, almost colliding with a certain peroxide blonde vampire in the process. Buffy and Spike both jumped and rolled their eyes in irritation.

"Bell. Neck," Buffy stated succinctly, "Look into it."

Spike quirked an eyebrow. "Come with a nice leather collar, does it?"

Buffy wished she didn't find that so suggestive. Lately she found herself getting more and more distracted by pretty much everything Spike said or did. Or wore. Or...well, everything. Buffy couldn't figure out why that was. He wasn't acting any different, that she could tell.

She tried to cover up her discomposure with annoyance. "What are you doing lurking down here?"

The vampire shrugged. "Came through the tunnels. Runnin' low on Berber weed," he held up a tangled mass of brownish stuff that Buffy would've sworn was old packing straw. "Stir it in with the blood. Makes it all hot and spicy."

Buffy wrinkled her nose, then reconsidered. "Guess a steady diet of blood does get kinda samey after a while. Still doesn't explain why you're sneaking around down here instead of buying it upstairs."

"What? I was gonna pay for it."

Buffy threw him a skeptical look, setting the box she was carrying down on the floor.

"I mean, no," Spike backpedaled, "I was gonna nick it, 'cause that's what I do." He smirked. "I go where I please and I take what I want. What's your excuse, anyway? I thought you had it to the brim with customer disservice."

"One-time deal to help out," Buffy said, "And I mean straight time. No loop-de-loop, mummy hand repeat-o-vision." She glanced at the rows of jars taking up an entire wall of the basement. "D'you know where the mandrake root is?"

"Do you even know what mandrake root looks like?"

"Yes!" she blurted, defensive, "It's...a root that's...mandrake shaped?"

With an amused snort, Spike walked over to the shelves and picked up a jar containing what looked like little dried mummies. He handed them over with a smile. "There are three to a jar. Tend to go a bit wonky if you cram 'em too close."

"Thanks." Buffy stared at the jar in her hands, taken with another sudden bout of bashfulness. Jeez, what was wrong with her?

"So," Spike shoved his hands into his duster pockets (pocketing the Berber weed in the process), "Feel like a bit of the rough-and-tumble?"

Shocked, Buffy's eyes darted to his face. _"What?"_

The vampire shrugged. "Y'know. Me, you."

Buffy blinked.

"_Patrolling._ Hello?"

"Oh, uh," she really, _really_ hoped he didn't notice she was blushing, "I, uh, should stay. Maybe tomorrow."

Spike managed to curb his disappointment. It was a stupid suggestion, anyway, what with it being Halloween. Plus they'd been patrolling together every night; he shouldn't keep monopolizing her time like that. The Slayer deserved a break. Spike casually strolled towards the exit leading into the sewers. "Not a problem. It's not like I don't already have plans," he flashed one last grin over his shoulder, "_The Great Pumpkin_ is on in twenty."

Buffy smiled, imagining the blonde vampire in his crypt, lounging in his chair with a coffee mug of pig's blood, watching _Charlie Brown_ on the TV.

Mandrake roots in hand, she ascended from the haven of the basement and returned to the chaos of the shop. By the time the last customer finally left and the door was locked, everybody was exhausted. Well, everybody except Anya, who was elated with the amount of money they'd made. Elation which only grew when Xander decided now was the time to finally announce his and Anya's engagement. Buffy insisted they all come to her house to celebrate. They stopped by the grocery store along the way to pick up some snacks, Willow conjured some decorations using a handy spell, and the stereo was turned up. It was a good time, even if it was a bit last-second. Giles was playing the host, distributing drinks, while Anya showed off the engagement ring she could now wear in public.

Early into the party, Dawn reminded Buffy she said it was okay to spend the night at her friend Janice's. Buffy was reluctant to let her younger sister out of her sight, but reminded herself that it was Halloween and all the monsters were taking the night off.

Buffy felt a pang as she watched Xander and Anya together. Xander was getting that deer-in-the-headlights look as his fiancée chattered on about how many kids they were going to have and what schools to send them to. But then Willow saved her childhood friend by turning up the music and asking the couple to dance. They looked so happy together, a great future as man and wife ahead of them.

"I'm the luckiest ex-demon in the world," Anya declared at one point, "I mean, to be able to find the one person in all dimensions that I was meant to be with and have everything work out exactly as I dreamed. I mean, how often does the universe allow that to happen?"

Buffy felt a lump start to form in her throat. "Yeah."

She realized then that she was jealous. Her friends were progressing with their lives, finding partners, celebrating life. And she was just...here.

Xander needed a break from his fiancée's enthusiasm and he asked Buffy to step out for some air. The two of them sat on the front porch, where Xander admitted to being a bit overwhelmed. "I didn't think it'd be so much!"

"But this is good," Buffy encouraged him, "This is love and celebration and moving forward."

"Right. Deep pools of ooey delight," Xander grinned, "I'm wallowing, not drowning."

"Definite wallow action."

Something in her voice must have given away her inner gloominess, because Xander tilted his head and regarded her with his occasionally astute gaze. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Buffy waved a negligent hand, "It's just...you and Anya, Willow and Tara. Feel like the odd girl out, is all."

Xander reached over and squeezed her arm. "Don't worry. Some lucky guy's out there right now waitin' for you to snatch him up. You just gotta find him."

Buffy smiled, hoped it looked sincere.

"Okay," Xander got to his feet, "So, once more into the breach?"

"Oh, I think my breaches are wearing a little thin. I'm gonna take Spike up on that offer to patrol," she said, heading for the steps leading down to the walkway, "Gotta be somethin' out there cruisin' for a smackdown."

"Have fun with that." Xander waved and went back into the house.

Buffy's melancholy continued during her walk to Restfield Cemetery. Seemed like everywhere she looked there were young couples, some in costume, some leading small groups of trick-or-treaters, or just on their way somewhere to probably make out. She tried to imagine she was one of those girls holding hands or walking arm in arm with someone. Anyone. Well, maybe not _anyone_. Her mind conjured an image of black leather and white-blonde hair, high cheekbones and icy blue eyes. Buffy froze mid-step. _Oh no..._

An ambulance drove past, its siren wailing. Grateful for the distraction, she hurried after it, found a group of people crowded around what looked like the scene of an accident. Buffy saw the paramedics loading a woman onto a gurney. "Losing her pulse..." one of them said. Buffy caught a glimpse of the victim's neck and saw the unmistakable punctures of a vampire bite. Buffy's lips tightened in determination and she set off at a quicker pace for Spike's crypt.

* * *

Buffy knocked once at the crypt door and entered without waiting for a response. "Get your gear together. We need to—" she paused, realizing she was talking to herself. The TV was on, _Night of the Living Dead_ playing across its screen. No sign of the vampire anywhere. "Spike?"

"You know," a familiar accented voice drawled behind her, "in civilized cultures that's called trespassing."

Buffy turned to face him. "Good thing you're uncivilized."

Spike chuckled.

"We've got trouble."

"Giles found you?"

Buffy frowned. "Giles? No. Was he looking for me?"

"Yeah, it's Dawn."

Confusion quickly became panic. "Dawn? Wh-what happened?"

"No, it's okay," Spike hurried to reassure her, "Giles was by here earlier looking for you. Dawn and her little friend pulled a Houdini. Up to a bit of candy corn mischief, I suspect."

"Wait. She's out there running around by herself?" Now annoyance. She was running the gamut of emotions tonight.

The vampire snorted, "Yeah, kids these days, eh?" He watched as Buffy stepped around to the trunk where he stored his weapons. "I did a sweep of the tunnels. Giles is pokin' about the cemetery."

"We have to find her," she said, lifting the trunk's lid, digging through the weaponry.

"I don't think she's in there," Spike observed wryly.

Buffy tossed him a stake. "There's at least one vampire out there who decided to blow off the holiday. Saw its victim being loaded into an ambulance on the way here."

Spike frowned in surprise. "You sure it was a vamp?"

"Saw the bite marks."

Spike growled. "Sodding newbies. Got no respect for tradition." He approached the trunk and pulled out a hand-held crossbow and extra wooden darts.

As luck would have it, they didn't have to search very long to find what they were looking for. All they had to do was follow the sounds of fighting. By the time they arrived, they found Giles standing in a clearing, surrounded by a circle of parked cars and snarling vampires. Dawn stood a few yards away from him with another young vamp who had his arm wrapped around her throat to hold her in place. The gang looked like they were about to leap in for the kill when Spike sauntered into the circle and laid a hand on Giles's shoulder. "So, this a private game or, uh, can anyone join in?"

Buffy ran towards her sister. "Dawn, are you—" She halted, took in the scene. Dawn wearing a letter jacket, which apparently belonged to the teenaged-looking vampire holding her hostage. The parked car behind them. "Were you parking with a vamp?" Buffy exclaimed.

Dawn shook herself loose from Justin the vamp's grip. "I-I didn't know he was dead."

"Living dead," Justin corrected.

"Shut up," Dawn hissed.

Buffy threw her arms up. "How could you not know?"

"I just met him."

"Oh, so you were parking in the woods with a boy you just met." Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"We've seen each other at parties," Justin said.

"Shut up," Buffy snapped, then turned back to her sister, "I don't believe you!"

"Oh, like you've never fallen for a vampire?" Dawn retorted.

Buffy scowled. "That's different."

Behind her, Spike paused in his vigilance over the other vamps to throw a startled glance her way. _Did she just use the present tense? Did she mean..._ _No, don't delude yourself._ It had to be Angel she was talking about. It was always going to be that Great Poof.

"It always is when it's you," Dawn countered.

One of the other vamps finally lost patience with the sisters' spat. "Uh, excuse me. Can we fight now?"

That was fine with everybody else. Buffy tossed Giles a stake and they set to taking out the vampires, who turned out to be disappointingly incompetent. Just as Spike thought, the gang was made up of youngsters only a few years turned, little more than fledgelings, so eager to prove just how badass they were.

"What is your malfunction, man?" the vampire Spike was fighting yelled.

Spike backhanded the vamp and sent him sprawling in the dirt. "It's Halloween, you nit," he snarled, "We take the night off. Those are the rules."

The vamp scoffed, "Me and mine don't follow no stinkin' rules. We're rebels."

"No." Spike whipped out his crossbow and fired a wooden dart into the vampire, dusting him instantly. "_I'm_ a rebel. You're an idiot. Give the lot of us a bad name," he grumbled as he reloaded the crossbow.

In the end, it was only a matter of minutes before the last vamp was dusted. Dawn even managed to stake Justin on her own. She remained quiet and withdrawn the entire walk back to the house, hugging the letter jacket to herself the entire way.

Buffy made her apologies to Xander and Anya for missing out on the rest of their party and said her goodbyes to the happy couple.

"I guess I should bugger off," Spike said a moment later, "Something about big bads not venturing far from the crypts on Halloween."

Buffy met his blue gaze, found herself tempted to ask him to stay. But this whatever-it-was she was starting to feel for the vampire was one complication more than she was prepared to deal with right now, so she simply nodded and told him, "Good fight."

Spike nodded, swallowing his disappointment. What did he expect? She'd ask him to stay the night? Sit with her on the couch and watch crappy horror films on the telly? He shook his head at his own foolishness.

Buffy watched Spike leave, then escaped to her room as quickly as she could, leaving Giles to deal with disciplining her sister. She only hoped sleep would provide an escape from her confused emotions, rather than make it worse in her dreams.


	7. Chapter 7: Once More With Feeling

**A/N:** Just to answer Hercules8's question, this fic will mostly follow Season 6 canon, but will get more AU starting with the next chapter, and quite a bit AU towards the end.

And now, here's the chapter about one of my favorite episodes, _Once More With Feeling_. Enjoy!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

Patrolling alone was...not good. It gave Buffy way too much time to think, and lately her thoughts hadn't been all that sunshiny. Patrolling with her friends wasn't any better, because she had to maintain the pretense that everything was hunky-dory, plus make sure said friends didn't get themselves killed in the process of "helping out."

It was better with Spike. She didn't have to worry about him holding his own against the big bads out there, and Buffy never felt the need to put on a mask around him. She could just be herself; damaged, depressed, torn-from-Heaven Buffy. He never looked at her with pity or suspicion that she came back _wrong_ somehow just because she was unhappy.

She hadn't been patrolling with the blonde vampire lately, though. Ever since Halloween, in fact. The feelings that kept cropping up when she was around him were confusing and frightening. Well, maybe not confusing; Buffy knew all too well what she was feeling, she just didn't want to label them. 'Cause once she did, they'd become real. Way, way too real. And she couldn't handle that right now. So she did what she usually resorted to in these stomach-twisty, non-combative situations; beat a panicked retreat. After more than a week of avoiding Spike, Buffy's already low spirits had taken a nosedive.

Buffy plodded through the cemetery with zero enthusiasm. At this point, she didn't care what happened on patrol, as long as it was over with soon so she could go home and mope in peace in her bedroom. An unfamiliar tune started running through her mind. Buffy wasn't sure where she'd heard it, but it was kind of catchy. She started to hum along when the words started coming out of her mouth, almost like they had a mind of their own.

"_Every single night the same arrangement_

_I go out and fight the fight_

_Still I always feel the strange estrangement_

_Nothing here is real_

_Nothing here is right"_

It was right then that Buffy realized the music wasn't just in her head. An unseen orchestra flooded the air with the sounds of instruments. When Buffy came upon a group of two vamps and a goat-headed demon who looked like they were about to sacrifice some guy they had tied to a tree, she quickly discovered that the musical effect extended to them as well. The ensuing fight felt like it was choreographed to match the beats in the song. The vampires and the demon even did a funny little dance number and sang their own verse.

"_She does pretty well with fiends from Hell_

_But lately we can tell"_

Buffy leapt in, grabbed the demon's sword, lopped off one vampire's head, knocked the other away.

"_That she's just going through the motions_

_Faking it somehow"_

She ran the goat-headed demon through with the sword while he was caught up in the singing.

"_She's not even half the girl she—ow..."_

The demon fell over mid-verse. Buffy walked over to where the sacrificial victim was tied up to the tree.

"_Will I stay this way forever_

_Sleepwalk through my life's endeavor"_

She hacked through the ropes with the sword. The victim, a gorgeously handsome man right out of a supermarket romance novel cover, beamed in gratitude and sang,_ "How can I repay y—"_

Buffy abruptly walked away,_"Whatever_

_I don't want to beeee..._

_Going through the motions_

_Losing all my drive_

_I can't even see_

_If this is really me_

_And I just wanna beeee..."_

She staked the last vampire as it tried to jump her. As its dust cloud cleared, Buffy finished with her arms held out dramatically.

"_Aliiiive..."_

She held that pose for a moment, then looked around the now empty cemetery with a frown. "Okay... That was weird."

* * *

After more than one hundred and twenty years of unlife, Spike finally witnessed true horror in the form of a massive, blubbery Chirago demon dancing a samba while bellowing out a warbling tune about his cheating girlfriend, who he apparently planned to eat once he left Willy's. The Chirago finished off with an elaborate twirl, knocking several patrons off their stools with his flailing arms in the process. The music that had inexplicably accompanied the demon faded, and the Chirago, looking somewhat embarrassed, cleared his throat and lumbered for the exit.

"What the bloody hell was _that?_" Spike blurted.

Willy, who'd spent the entire number wiping down glasses like nothing unusual was happening, shrugged and said, "Stuff like that's been goin' on all day. People bursting into song, prancin' around like Fred Astaire. I figure the town's under some kinda curse, or maybe a spell that went wrong."

Spike reached for the bottle to top off his drink. He'd need it to wipe out the memory of Jabba the Dancing Hutt. "What's the point of turning Sunnyhell into a musical? Other than traumatizing everyone with sodding awful dancing?"

"Got me," the human shrugged again, "But ya gotta admit, it makes thing a helluva lot more interesting. I started singin' in the middle of vacuuming my place out. Housework just flew by after that."

Spike made a disinterested noise and tossed back the whiskey. He refilled the glass again.

"I take it you, uh, haven't given your own performance yet?" Willy asked.

"Guess I've got nothin' to sing about," the vampire muttered gloomily. This past week he'd been brooding so much he was starting to think he should change his name to Angel, Jr. And it pissed him off. Things between him and Buffy had been going so well. He could feel the dynamics of their relationship starting to change, maybe becoming something more than friendship. Unfortunately, the Slayer seemed to have picked up on this as well, and in true Buffy fashion, she panicked. She hadn't asked him to patrol with her for the better part of a week. In fact, she hadn't been by his crypt at all. Oh, she probably had some excuse ready if Spike ever cornered her long enough to confront her about it, but he knew it really boiled down to the fact that she was scared. Scared of what her friends would think. Scared of falling for a soulless vampire. And let's not forget the whole abandonment issue. Spike was all too aware of Buffy's track record when it came to men; the going got tough, the blokes got going. Well, she needed to get it through her thick blonde skull that Spike wasn't like those other nancy boys. He stuck it out with Dru for more than a century, hadn't he? And there was no way anyone could think the crazy bint was easy to live with. He'd _still_ be with her if Dru hadn't ended it!

"Sod it." Spike got off the bar stool and grabbed the half-empty bottle on his way out. If he was going to get pathetically drunk, and probably start singing about his woes in the process, then he was doing it in the privacy of his crypt.

* * *

Finding out she wasn't the only one to randomly burst into song was kind of a relief. At least Buffy wasn't going crazy on top of being abysmally depressed. On the minus side, when people did sing, there was zero filter. They were either singing about mundane things like the dry cleaners getting mustard stains out of a favorite shirt, or they were spilling their deepest, darkest secrets, like Xander's and Anya's fears about their upcoming wedding. Add to that the spontaneous combustions, and this forced musical wasn't so much fun anymore.

Buffy was in constant dread of letting slip the secret she'd been harboring since returning to life. All this time, her friends consoled themselves over resurrecting her with the belief that she was better off alive than where her soul had been before. If they ever found out she was in Heaven all that time... She didn't want to burden them with that kind of guilt. They didn't deserve that. They did what they did because they loved her, it wasn't their fault they didn't know she was already better off.

Research was getting them nowhere. Buffy knew she needed to look for other leads, and the one she turned to most often for such leads was Spike. It took some prompting to get herself to approach the familiar crypt, let alone walk through its door. Spike came up from the lower level as she walked in, a whiskey bottle in his hand. If he was glad to see her after several days' absence, it didn't show.

"The sun sets and she appears," he stated with a sarcastic edge, "Come to serenade me?"

"So you know what's going on." Good. They'd get their business over with quickly and she could leave.

"Well, I've seen some damn funny things the last two days," he said, "A six hundred pound Chirago demon making like Yma Sumac. That one'll stay with you." Spike shuddered at the memory. "I remain immune, happy to say. Drink?" he held up the bottle.

Buffy recalled the last time the two of them shared a drink and shook her head. "A world of no." She took a seat on a sarcophagus. "So, any idea what's causing this?"

The vampire's expression fell. "Oh. So that's all. You've just come to pump me for information."

Buffy tried to feign ignorance. "What else would I want to pump you for?" she blinked as her words sank in, "I really just said that, didn't I?"

Spike didn't even smirk. A bad sign. Buffy never knew the vampire to pass up the chance at a little innuendo.

"Yeah, well, don't want to bore you with the small talk," he walked over to the door, held it open in an obvious invitation for her to leave, "Don't know a thing."

Buffy frowned. "What's up? You're all bad moody."

"It's nothing. Glad you could stop by." Spike tried to wave her along. He was getting anxious, knowing with his heightening emotions this musical curse, or whatever it was, might take hold of him any second. Why the hell was she just sitting there! "It's nothing," he insisted, less convincing this time.

"What?" Buffy asked.

Spike opened his mouth to give some excuse to get her to leave.

"_I died so many years ago_

_But you can make me feel like it isn't so"_

Spike threw his head back in exasperation. Buffy rolled her eyes. Resigned, Spike shut the crypt's door. Too late now; once the singing started, there was no way to stop. No choice but to see it through to its end.

"_And why you come to be with me_

_I think I finally know_

_Mm-hmm..._

_You're scared, ashamed of what you feel_

_And you can't tell the ones you love_

_You know they couldn't deal_

_A whisper in a dead man's ear_

_It doesn't make it real..."_

Buffy shifted uncomfortably. His words were hitting a nerve. This only served to anger the vampire. Did she think he _wanted_ to spill his guts like this?

"_That's great, but I don't wanna play_

_'Cause being with you touches me_

_More than I can say_

_And since I'm only dead to you_

_I'm saying stay away_

_And let me rest in peace"_

There was no escape. Even when Spike tried kicking her out, the magic compelled him to walk with her through the cemetery and finish his song, just as it compelled Buffy to listen without interruption.

"_I know I should go_

_But I follow you like a man possessed_

_There's a traitor here beneath my breast_

_And it hurts me more than you've ever guessed_

_If my heart could beat it would break my chest_

_But I can see you're unimpressed_

_So leave me be"_

They came upon a funeral, of all things. Who held a funeral in Sunnydale at night? Spike took out his frustrations on the terrified procession, knocking over fold-up chairs and scattering mourners.

"_And let me rest in peace_

_Let me get some sleep_

_Let me take my love and bury it_

_In a hole six foot deep"_

In full vamp-face, he grabbed the terrified reverend and yelled in his face,

"_I can lay my body down_

_But I can't find my sweet release..."_

Even though she knew Spike couldn't harm the man, she grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him away, sending them both tumbling into the freshly dug grave. Spike landed flat on his back with Buffy on top of him, his vampire features morphed back into human. He stared up at her with eyes that were sad and resigned.

"_Let me rest in peace_

_Why won't you let me rest in peace?"_

With the song over, the spell lost its hold. Buffy scrambled out of the grave and hightailed it out of the cemetery, Spike's sadly hopeful, "So...you're not staying then?" trailing after her.

It was too much. Buffy knew he was still in love with her, but figured because he wasn't pressuring her anymore his feelings must've lessened over time. Now, thanks to this stupid musical curse, she knew what he felt for her was as strong as ever. All those months she spent patrolling with him, unburdening herself to him, and the whole time she'd been unwittingly torturing him. Being with him without really being with him. Using him to make herself feel better. Buffy couldn't kid herself anymore; she knew the vampire's feelings were real, not just his imagination. This knowledge left her both terrified and guilty in equal measure. Guilty for how she hurt him, without even realizing it. And terrified because...even if she didn't share his feelings, she _could _someday, and that would only leave her vulnerable to getting her heart broken yet again. Buffy didn't think she could survive that. Not this time.

* * *

Buffy tried to take her mind off the incident with Spike by focusing on the problem at hand. Giles altered her training regimen to focus on precision and concentration as well as brute strength. Buffy had to admit, the knife throwing part was kinda fun. It used to bother her how much she actually enjoyed the danger and adrenalin of her Calling, but since coming back to life, any sensation besides estrangement was welcome. It helped her focus on the here and now, rather than on what she lost.

Giles seemed melancholy during training. Buffy got the impression that he sang something, but was so focused on her exercises she didn't really pick up on his words.

"Did you say something?" she asked at one point. The Watcher sadly shook his head.

Meanwhile, Spike was out in force, determined to take his aggravations out on whatever creatures of the night were unfortunate to encounter him. The fact that he left the cemeteries behind and was heading in the direction of the Magic Box was purely coincidental, or so he told himself. More than once.

A few blocks from his destination, Spike ran into a bizarre sight. At first he thought it was a man wearing some kind of mask, but as he got closer, its jerky movements and faintly creaking joints told him the creature was in fact a life-sized animated puppet.

"Oi!" Spike called out. The puppet man paused and twisted its body to face him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"My master has sent me to find the Slayer," the creature stated bluntly.

"What for?" Spike asked, since the direct approach seemed to work just fine.

"To tell her that my master has taken the Slayer's sister hostage at The Bronze because she summoned him and at midnight, he's going to take her to the underworld to be his queen."

"Huh." Spike regarded the blank wooden face for a moment. "In that case, I think you'd better come with me." He grabbed the puppet and roughly began leading it in the direction of the magic shop. Moments later they burst through the shop's door to find Buffy, Giles, and the Scoobies all present.

"Looky-looky what I found," Spike announced, glancing at the Slayer in hope of some kind of reaction. Instead, it was Tara who asked, "Is this the demon guy?"

"Works for him. Has a nice little story for the Slayer, don't you? Come on, then," she shoved the wooden man, "Sing."

The creature proceeded to repeat his message pretty much word for word as it had told the vampire. When it was finished, Spike reached for the puppet to drag it away and finish it off, but the wooden man surprised him by twisting free and running out the door. "Strong," he remarked, "Someday he'll be a real boy."

Buffy stood with her arms crossed, almost hugging herself, the news of her Dawn's abduction bringing her a sense of fatalism. A sense which only increased when Giles decided she had to face the demon alone. Not even her friends' weak protests helped crack her growing apathy.

Spike scoffed in anger, "Don't be a stupid git! There is—"

"If I want your opinion, Spike, I'll—" Giles sighed, "I'll never want your opinion."

Spike turned to Buffy. "Forget them, Slayer. I got your back."

Buffy stared up at him. "Thought you wanted me to stay away from you," she said dully, "Isn't that what you sang?"

"Spike sang a wittle song?" Xander mocked.

Buffy watched as Spike's hurt turned to anger. "Fine. I hope you dance 'til you burn. You and the Little Bit." He marched out of the shop without a backward glance. Buffy swallowed down her guilt and hurt, let the numbness take over as she left to save her sister alone.

Naturally, a song came upon her as she made her way to The Bronze. The strange thing was the sense that she wasn't the only one singing it. She could almost hear the others adding their own verses, like a montage in a movie.

"_I touch the fire and it freezes me_

_I look into it and it's black_

_Why can't I feel?_

_My skin should crack and peel_

_I want the fire back_

_So I will walk through the fire_

_'Cause where else can I turn?_

_I will walk through the fire and let it—"_

Not far away, Spike crouched on some old packing crates in a nondescript alley, smoking a cigarette.

"_The torch I bear is scorching me_

_Buffy's laughing, I've no doubt_

_I hope she fries_

_I'm free if that bitch dies_

_I'd better help her out"_

He tossed the cigarette away and stood, his feet carrying him towards The Bronze. Who the hell was he kidding? No matter how much she pissed him off, no matter how many times she drove him away, he would always run to help her.

"_'Cause she is drawn to the fire_

_She will never learn_

_And she will walk through the fire and let it—"_

Walking alone through the darkened streets, Buffy let her sadness out through the forced melody.

"_So one by one they turn from me_

_I guess my friends can't face the cold_

_But why I froze not one among them knows_

_And never can be told"_

At The Bronze, the demon known lately by the name of Sweet grinned in anticipation as he sensed the approach of the Slayer and her friends. He heard all their voices harmonizing together as clearly as if they were all in the room with him. His own voice rose to join them.

"_And we are caught in the fire_

_The point of no return_

_So we will walk through the fire_

_And let it burn_

_Let it burn_

_Let it buuurrrrn_

_Let it burn!"_

The club's door flew off its hinges, courtesy of a solid kick from the Slayer. The demon Sweet chuckled, "Show time."

* * *

The demon was not what Buffy expected. He was...suave. His satin blue suit looked sharp rather than garish. And the way he carried himself was almost regal. He wasn't the least bit intimidated by the Slayer's presence. Why should he, when he had all the power?

Emotions were what Sweet fed on, and the songs brought those emotions rising to the surface, enhancing them. The stronger the emotions, the more power he wielded. It wasn't his fault the strongest emotions were usually negative ones. Joy, love, optimism, they'd work just as well for the empathic demon, and they didn't result in spontaneous combustion for the victims, like the bad feelings did. It was just so much harder to maintain the positive emotions than it was to give into the negative. One of life's delightful quirks.

Though Buffy thought she was numb, her emotions were in fact so strong they were like a beacon. Or a siren, screaming into the dark. Sorrow, hopelessness, guilt, pain.

"I love a good entrance," Sweet declared, lounging in his chair. Dawn sat in the chair beside him, held in place by his compulsion.

"How are you at death scenes?" Buffy's retort came out half-hearted. Sweet chuckled.

"Buffy!" Dawn cried out from her chair, "I swear, I didn't summon him."

"Don't worry. You're not going anywhere," Buffy stared levelly at the demon, "I am."

"W-What?" Dawn stammered.

"Deal's this," Buffy told Sweet, "I can't kill you, you take me to Hellsville in her place."

The demon quirked a nonexistent eyebrow. This Slayer was even farther gone than he thought. "What if I kill you?"

Buffy shook her head. "Trust me, won't help."

"Hmm, that's gloomy."

"That's life."

"Come now," Sweet goaded, prodding her emotions with invisible fingers, "Is that really what you feel? Isn't life a miraculous thing?"

"I think you already know..."

* * *

Spike cursed as he ran through the maze of alleys and side streets. Sometime during that bloody song he'd gotten himself turned around. Buffy was probably already at the club by now, facing the demon without any backup. If anything happened to her before he got there...

The Bronze came into sight. Lights were on, and from inside Spike's keen ears picked up the strains of music and a sad, lonely voice.

"_There was no pain_

_No fear, no doubt_

_'Til they pulled me out_

_Of Heaven"_

Bollocks, the demon had her dredging up her closest-held secret. Spike jumped to peer through the closest window, saw Buffy standing in front of the stage where the demon sat with a captive Dawn. He also saw Giles and the Scoobies. So the fickle pillocks decided to step in and help after all. Now they were being forced to hear the one thing Buffy never wanted them to know.

"_So that's my refrain_

_I live in Hell_

_'Cause I've been expelled_

_From Heaven_

_I think I was in Heaven_

_So give me something to sing about_

_Please...give me something to sing about..."_

Then Buffy started to dance, her movements becoming less coordinated the more her emotions started to overwhelm her. The others stood by and watched helplessly, either too stunned to move or magically restrained. Buffy whirled and spun, faster and faster, smoke rising around her. Sweet leaned to the edge of his seat, grinning in excitement. The resulting explosion of flame and emotion would likely keep him satiated for weeks to come.

Buffy wanted to cry out. She just wanted the pain to end.

A pair of hands suddenly gripped her shoulders, halting her mid-spin. Buffy found herself gazing up into a familiar pair of hard blue eyes. Spike. He came back. He always came back for her.

"_Life's not a song_

_Life isn't bliss_

_Life is just this_

_It's living"_

He gently brushed her hair back from her eyes.

"_You'll get along_

_The pain that you feel_

_You only can heal_

_By living_

_You have to go on living"_

His smile held a touch of sadness.

"_So one of us is living."_

As the music faded, Sweet idly clapped his hands in applause. " Now that was a show-stopping number. Though not quite the fireworks I was looking for."

"Get out of here," Willow snarled. Her cheeks were tearstained, her emotions running high from Buffy's revelation rather than the demon's influence.

Sweet cocked his head in curiosity. "Hmm, I smell power. Well," he got to his feet, "I guess the little missus and I should be on our way."

"That's not going to happen," Giles declared.

"I didn't summon you!" Dawn protested frantically.

Sweet leaned over the girl, touched her necklace. "You have my talisman on, sweet thing."

"This?" Dawn's hand flew to the jewelry, "N-no I, uh, at the Magic box—on the floor—I was cleaning and I...I forgot... But I didn't summon anything!"

Sweet knew she wasn't telling the whole truth. But the part about not summoning him, that smelled of truth. "Well, now, that's a twist."

"If it was in the shop," Giles speculated, "then one of us probably..."

A very shamefaced Xander slowly raised his hand. Everyone glared, especially when they heard his flimsy reason for using the talisman in the first place; to find out through the singing if he and Anya would have a happy ending after they got married.

The demon smirked. "I think everything worked out just fine," he lied smoothly.

Xander threw him a worried look. "Does this mean that I have to...be your queen?"

"It's tempting," Sweet quipped, "But I think we'll waive that clause just this once." He flashed a dazzling grin at his opponents and held out his arms. "Big smiles, everyone. You beat the bad guy," he chuckled, and proceeded to sing one last verse in farewell.

"_What a lot of fun_

_You guys have been real swell_

_And there's not a one_

_Who can say this ended well_

_All those secrets you've been concealing_

_Say you're happy now once more with feeling_

_Now I gotta run_

_See you all in Hell..."_

The smug demon transformed into a point of light that swayed and danced above their heads until it gradually vanished, along with Sweet's final drawn-out note.

Everyone stood in awkward silence, no one able to meet the others' eyes. The painful knowledge of the secrets they'd learned, the feelings stirred up...

"_Where do we go from here..."_

Dawn's solitary voice heralded Sweet's parting gift. Once last song to end the ordeal. The others let themselves join in without resistance. Only when it looked like they might break into dance did Spike discover the compulsion wasn't as strong as before. He shook off the effects with a growled "bugger this" and made for the exit. Buffy saw him leave and broke away from the rest of the group to follow.

"_The curtains close on a kiss_

_God knows we can tell the end is near_

_Where do we go from here?"_

"Hey," Buffy called out, halting the vampire in his tracks. When he turned, even in the poor street lighting, she could see how much he was struggling to keep it together. What happened—or almost happened—in The Bronze affected him more than he'd let on.

"You should go back inside," he said, "finish the big group sing, get your kumbayayas out."

"I...I don't want to," Buffy replied in a small voice.

Spike let out an unsteady laugh. "The day you suss out what you do want there'll probably be a parade. Seventy-six bloody trombones." God, he needed to get away from her. He didn't know why he was losing control of himself, but he was seconds away from grabbing her and declaring his undying (literally) love before kissing her senseless. Yeah, that'd go over real well. She'd probably stake him for sure.

"Spike..." Buffy took a step closer to him.

Spike held up a hand to stop her. "Look, you don't have to say anything—"

"_I touch the fire and it freezes me..."_

Spike blinked in surprise, then found himself singing back, _"I died..."_

"_I look into it and it's black..."_

"_So many years ago..."_

They slowly moved closer, drawn together like magnets, eyes staring intently into each other.

"_This isn't real..."_

"_But you can make me feel..."_

"_But I just wanna feel..."_

There was no spell compelling them this time. The confusion that plagued Buffy whenever she was around the vampire was gone. It might likely return later, but right now, when she kissed Spike in that moment, it was because she wanted to. More than anything.

The music swelled. The sound of seventy-six trombones filled the air.

Nearby, hidden in an unlit alley, the demon Sweet grinned in satisfaction as he fed off the emotions radiating from the couple in waves. He hadn't tasted love this intense in a very long time. It was intoxicating.


	8. Chapter 8: Tabula Rasa

**A/N:** Let me just say that the kiss at the end of this episode was one of the hottest I'd ever seen, and my words couldn't possibly do it justice. Here's another one of my favorites; the funny and light-hearted (mostly) Tabula Rasa! Enjoy. :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I've been searching deep down in my soul_

_Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old_

_It feels like I'm starting all over again_

_The last three years were just pretend_

-_Goodbye To You_ by Michelle Branch

As per usual, Buffy was spending her night wandering through one of the dozen cemeteries in Sunnydale in search of evil things to slay. A familiar tingle warned her that something was coming up behind her. She spun, stake at the ready, only to sigh and lower the weapon to her side. "Spike."

The peroxide blonde regarded her stoically. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" Buffy asked, turning away to continue her patrol. She heard the rustle of Spike's duster as he trailed behind her.

"We kissed, Buffy."

"So?" She bit back a smirk, knowing her apparent indifference would fluster him.

"We—We _kissed_," he stammered uncharacteristically, "You and me. All _Gone With the Wind_, with the rising music and the rising...music. And what was that, Buffy?"

"A spell?" she teased, then nearly squeaked when the vampire suddenly darted in her path and brought her to a halt with his hands on her waist.

"Oh, don't get all prim and proper on me," his voice dropped to a seductive pitch, "I know what kind of girl you really are." He slowly pushed her back up against a tree, gaining confidence by her lack of resistance. He leaned in close until their lips were only centimeters apart. "Don't I?"

Buffy's heart rate quickened and her fingers curled around the lapels of his coat, not sure if she wanted to push him away or yank him close so he could kiss her. She licked her lips, caught her lower one between her teeth, and the sight brought a faint growl from Spike's throat. Then, without warning, Buffy lunged forward, knocking both of them to the ground an instant before a stake came flying past and embedded itself in the tree. Buffy looked up from where she sprawled on top of Spike to see a demon halting two vamps to either side of him. "Now, easy, boys. No need to get physical, eh? Is there, Mr. Spike?"

"You know this guy?" Buffy asked as she and Spike got to their feet. The demon was one of the most ridiculous she'd ever seen. He had a head shaped like a shark and was wearing a dark purple suit. Where the heck did this guy come from? The Loony Toons dimension?

"What d'you want?" Spike demanded.

The demon gave an elaborate shrug. "Uh, me? There are a lotta things I would like, Mr. Spike. A house in Bel Air with a generously sized swimming pool..."

_I'll bet_, Buffy thought.

"...and, of course, the forty Siamese you owe me."

_Oh, my god. He's a loan shark. Literally!_ Buffy clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the hysterical giggles.

Spike, oblivious to the Slayer's mirth, responded in all seriousness, "Take it easy, you'll get your kittens."

"Oh, I trust you, Mr. Spike," the demon drawled.

Buffy couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Oh, god! What is it with you guys? Why kittens? Why can't you just use money like everybody else?"

The Loan Shark chuckled. "She's funny. I like funny in a girl."

"I just need a little more time," Spike tried to reason.

The demon rolled his black marble eyes. "Oh, time, time! Time is what turns kittens into cats. Look, I don't wanna see anyone get hurt." Which was why he turned his back before he signaled his flunkies. "Boys."

The vampires ran forward, brandishing stakes. Buffy shoved Spike out of the way and grabbed an overhead branch, kicking out with both legs. Her feet struck the first vampire's chin, sending him sprawling. She then dropped to the ground and grabbed the second vamp's wrist, flipping him onto his back and snatching the stake from his hand. She didn't finish him, though. She wasn't willing to involve herself that much in Spike's money problems.

The first vampire regained his feet and turned to the demon. "I said she was the Slayer, boss!"

"Ah, good for you. The Vampire Slayer," the Loan Shark sidled closer, "Have you ever given any thought to freelance work? A little debt collecting?"

Buffy snorted. "No, thanks."

"Boss," the vampire spoke up, "he's gone. Spike has split."

Surprised, Buffy glanced behind her. Sure enough, the blonde vampire was gone. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

The Loan Shark sighed. "Ah, well, that's what I get for socializing. All right. C'mon, boys. We'll locate Mr. Spike and, uh, _talk_ to him a little more." He paused to address Buffy in passing, "Oh, it was a genuine pleasure." And with that, he and his men departed.

Buffy waited until they were well out of sight before calling out, "They're gone. You can quit your incredibly brave hiding, now."

Spike stepped out from behind a large gravestone. "You had it all well in hand. Didn't wanna step on your toes."

"Right," she scoffed, "Since when do you run from a fight, anyway?"

"If I took that wiseguy fish out, his organization'd send somebody ten times worse," Spike explained, "Better if I keep my distance from him 'til I can pay off the debt."

Buffy snickered. "Gotta pay forty kittens to the cartoony demon. There's just no un-funny way to say that."

"I'm glad my misfortune entertains you." Smiling, Spike reached out and rested his hand against her cheek. "You should smile more. It suits you."

"Haven't had a lot to smile about, lately," she shrugged. Her eyes took on a faraway look for a moment.

"What're you thinking, luv?"

Buffy didn't answer at first, then she looked at him and said in a joking voice that was only a little forced, "I was thinking if I would just stop saving your life, it would simple things up _so_ much."

Spike grinned. "Yeah, but your life wouldn't be near as interesting."

Buffy reached out and gripped his hand in hers. "You're right about that."

* * *

Buffy felt as if the world was falling out from under her. She and Giles were in the training room. Giles was seated on the couch that was pushed up against the wall. His expression was solemn. "I have to."

Buffy slowly sat down on a convenient stack of exercise mats. "Uh-huh..."

"You have to be strong. I-I'm trying to—"

"Trying to what?" she got back to her feet, suddenly angry, "Desert me? Abandon me? Leave me all alone when I really need somebody?"

Giles shook his head sadly. "I don't want to leave."

"So _don't_," she moved to sit next to him on the couch, "Please don't. I can't do this without you."

"You can," Giles argued gently, "That's why I'm going. As long as I stay, you will always turn to me if something comes up that you feel you can't handle, and I'll step in, because..." he hung his head, "because I can't bear to see you suffer."

"Me too," Buffy said earnestly, "Hate suffering. Had about as much of it as I can take."

Giles leaned towards her. "Believe me, I'm loath to cause you more, but this... I've taught you all I can about being the Slayer, and your mother taught you what you need to know about life. You're not going to trust that until you're forced to stand alone."

"But why _now?_" she pleaded, "Now that you know where I've been, what I'm going through."

"Now more than ever. The temptation to give up is going to be overwhelming, and I can't let—"

"So I _won't._ No giving up," Buffy argued, growing more desperate, "You can be here and I can still be strong."

"Buffy," the Watcher sighed, "I've thought this over, and over. I believe it's the right thing to do."

Buffy stared at him, eyes hard with hurt and betrayal. "You're wrong." She got up from the couch and stormed out of the training room. She left the Magic Box without a word to anyone, went marching angrily down the street without any destination in mind. Her feet automatically carried her in the direction of Restfield Cemetery. She wanted to unload her pain on Spike, wanted him to hold her and promise her she wasn't alone. Funny, all this time she'd been focusing her abandonment issues on the vampire, and it was Giles—her steadfast, loyal father figure—who was the one that was leaving. It felt like a hole was being gouged in her chest. Why did every man she loved always go away? Was it her? Was there something about her so awful it drove them away?

The cemetery was coming into sight when Buffy remembered that Spike told her he wouldn't be at his crypt for a few days, laying low until he settled his debt. Terrific. So, not even Spike was there for her. Feeling sorry for herself, Buffy turned away and plodded home instead. Sometimes she wished she could just forget everything that sucked in her life, start over with a clean slate. Hard to think it could get any worse.

* * *

Giles called a meeting of the Scoobies the next day to inform them all of his departure. He, Buffy, Anya, Tara, and Dawn were already at the Magic Box waiting for the others. Buffy sat slumped on the stairs leading up to the dark arts books, the picture of misery, though the only one aware of this was Giles, the person responsible.

"So, what do we got?" Dawn asked, thrilled to have been included in one of the Scooby meetings.

Giles frowned in puzzlement. "Sorry?"

"What kinda ooglie-booglies? Lizardy types, or, um, zombies, or vampires, or what?"

Giles gave a sad smile. "There are no 'ooglie-booglies,' Dawn."

The jingle of the bell at the door heralded the arrival of the remaining two Scoobies. Willow was wearing Xander's jacket, which he had gallantly loaned her to ward off the chill outside. Now that everyone was present, Giles got to his feet and announced, "I have something I really need to tell you all. I know it feels like we've been through this before."

"Just jump to the chase," Buffy interrupted, standing up, "Tell them that you're—"

The shop's door suddenly flew open and a figure rushed inside in a cloud of smoke. He slammed the door closed and turned to face the startled group, revealing himself to be Spike, dressed in a brown tweed suit and bowtie and wearing a winter hat with earflaps.

"Spike?" Giles blurted in dismay.

"Holy moly!" Anya exclaimed. Her reaction to the vampire's ridiculous appearance pretty much spoke for everyone.

"You need to give me asylum," Spike declared, a desperate edge to his voice.

"I'll say," Xander muttered.

Spike glared at the young carpenter, yanked off the hat. "No need to get cute," he growled, "It's a disguise. Happens there's a bloke I'd rather not see just now." He hopped up onto the counter, much to the shop owners' annoyance. "You met him, I believe," Spike nodded to Buffy, "Toothy bloke with the baby seal breath? Nasty fellow, him, and ugly, too. Got a mouthful of choppers just waiting to be yanked out and worn as necklaces."

While Spike regaled them with his ordeal, Willow surreptitiously checked the crystal in her pocket and saw with satisfaction that it had turned black. Meanwhile, back at the Summers house, a spark leapt out of the unattended fireplace and landed on the bag of Lethe's bramble that Willow had been too absent-minded to put away.

"Well, now we've recovered from Spike's sartorial humor," Giles stated wryly, "I'll jump to the chase." He shifted his stance, fiddled with his glasses. "Um... I'm headed back to England, and I plan to stay...indefinitely."

Everyone was too caught off guard to react at first. Then Xander blurted, "Now? Not now! I mean, not after...everything."

"I can't do this," Buffy hurried towards the door, wanting nothing more than to escape this pain, "I just... I-I need to..."

Willow hurried to interrupt her, anxious to keep her friend close until the spell did its work. "Buffy, listen. I know this must be awful for you, and I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry for what we—"

Buffy looked like she wanted to laugh, or cry, or probably both. She threw out her arms. "'I'm sorry.' Everybody's sorry!" She looked at her friends' worried faces. "I know that you guys are just trying to help, but it's just...it's too much. And...and I...I can't take it anymore," her voice cracked.

A muscle in Spike's jaw twitched. He wanted to yell at Giles for being such a cowardly git and abandoning Buffy when she needed him so much. Wanted to run to Buffy and hold her close, take her anguish into himself. But he knew if he did either of those, it would only make things worse. As far as everyone else was concerned, he didn't belong in Buffy's life, and therefore didn't have any right to step in and defend her, especially when what he was defending her from was her own well-meaning friends.

"If you guys... If you guys understood how it felt," Buffy all but sobbed, "How it feels. It's like I'm dying in—"

A wave of dizziness came over her without warning. Before she understood what was happening, Buffy's legs gave out and she fell in a graceless heap on the floor. All around her, the others collapsed as well. The shop fell silent as its inhabitants all slipped into spell-induced unconsciousness.

* * *

The sun had long since set when Buffy finally woke. She sat up on the floor of the shop and blinked at her darkened surroundings. "Huh?" She rose unsteadily to her feet, saw something that might be a light switch and went over to flip it on. The sudden brightness roused several other unconscious people scattered throughout the place. There was a young man and redheaded woman curled up together on the floor, a young blonde woman slouched in a chair, and an older man slumped against a younger woman seated beside him. Buffy noticed a teenaged girl lying on the floor, still sleeping, and a man in a suit lying on the counter, who stretched catlike as he woke and promptly rolled off the counter with a high-pitched "Aaah!"

Everyone jerked fully awake. The man jumped to his feet behind the counter, flustered and more than a little embarrassed. Buffy noticed that, despite the ridiculous tweed suit and bowtie, the man wasn't that much older than her. And handsome. Perfect high cheekbones, full lips, icy blue eyes. He had a scar on his left eyebrow and his slicked-back hair was an unnatural blonde-white. Everything about the guy's appearance was contradictory, which made him all the more intriguing.

"Who...Who are you people?"

The small voice drew Buffy's attention to the teenaged girl who sat hugging her knees. Buffy crouched down beside her. "Don't worry."

The girl flinched away from her. "Please, don't hurt me."

"It's okay," she soothed.

"Who are you?"

Buffy frowned, confused. "I, uh..."

"Does anyone remember anything?" the older man asked in a distinguished English accent.

The peroxide blonde man shook his head. "Nope."

"Well, maybe we all got terribly drunk and this is some sort of, um, blackout," the older man speculated.

The teen girl shook her head. "I don't think I drink."

"I don't see any booze," the women who'd been snoozing with the older man said, "I don't feel any head bumps. And I don't see Allen Funt."

"Who?" the older man asked, bewildered.

The young dark-haired man started pacing nervously. "Okay. I'm not panicking. I'm not. I'm not. Stop looking at me like I'm panicking!"

"Hey, take it easy, guy," Buffy tried to sound reassuring, "Okay, no one's hurt, right? And none of us look all hatchety-murdery. So, we're probably safe here. Wherever here is."

"Look at the stuff on these shelves," the redhead walked over to the counter and stared at the merchandise on display. "Weird jars of weird stuff. Weird books with weird covers like _Magic for Beginners_. Oh!"

"This is a magic shop," the lone blonde said excitedly, "A-A-A _real_ magic shop."

"Maybe that's it!" Buffy declared, "Maybe something magic happened."

The older man scoffed. "Magic? Magic's all balderdash and chicanery. I'm afraid we don't know a bloody thing. Except I seem to be British, don't I? And a man...with glasses." He removed said glasses from his nose and examined them. "Which I suddenly feel the urge to clean. Well," he put them back on, "I'm certain we'll find a way to get our memory back. It'll all be right as rain."

"Oh, listen to Mary Poppins," the handsome blonde sneered, "He's got his crust all stiff and upper with that nancy boy accent. You Englishmen are always so..." He froze as he suddenly listened to himself. "Bloody hell. Sodding, blimey, shagging, knickers, bollocks. Oh, god. _I'm_ English."

"Welcome to the nancy tribe," the older man drawled.

The blonde man eyed him in suspicion. "You don't suppose you and I... We're not related, are we?"

"There is a ruggedly handsome resemblance," the older man's snooze buddy observed. The older man grinned at the flattery, then turned back to the blonde man. "And you do inspire a, um...well, a particular feeling of familiarity and...disappointment," he finished in an awkward mutter. "Older brother?" he asked, pointing to himself.

The younger man scoffed at the notion. "More like father. Oh, god, how I must hate you."

"What'd _I_ do?" the older man asked in dismay.

"There's always something. And what's with the trollop?" He pointed at the snooze buddy.

The young woman scowled. "Hey!"

"I saw you sleeping together."

"_Resting_ together," the older man corrected.

Buffy's shoulders trembled as she fought to hold in the laughter that threatened to burst out any second. From the looks of everybody else, they found this bickering equally entertaining. It certainly helped distract them from the whole amnesia thing.

"Look!" the young woman waved her left hand, "It's okay. We're engaged."

The older man looked rather pleased at this revelation. The blonde man, however, was not to be appeased. "Oh, great. A tarty stepmom who's half old Daddy's age."

_"Tarty?"_ the woman snapped.

_"Old?"_ the older man blustered, "You little twerp! I'm young enough to still get carded."

"Cards!" the redhead exclaimed, startling everyone back to the problem at hand, "Drivers licenses!" She scrabbled for her purse. Everyone else checked bags and pockets in search of ID. The redhead's name was Willow Rosenberg. The dark-haired young man was Alexander Harris. The blonde woman found a student ID that stated her name was Tara. The older man was Rupert Giles, and his fiancee was called Anya. The teenaged girl had on a necklace that said Dawn, and the peroxide blonde man found a label inside his suit jacket that read: _Made with care for Randy._

_"Randy Giles?"_ he sputtered in horror, "Why not just call me Horny Giles, or Desperate-For-A-Shag Giles?" He jabbed an accusatory finger at the man he believed was his father. "I knew there was a reason I hated you!"

"So, you don't have a name?" Dawn asked Buffy.

"Of course I do. I just don't happen to know it." She hadn't found any kind of ID in her pockets, and didn't seem to have a purse anywhere.

"You want me to name you?" the girl asked eagerly.

"Oh, that's sweet, but I think I can name myself. I'll name me...Joan."

Dawn was less than impressed, but Buffy liked the name. It sounded adult and quietly sophisticated.

With the question of names settled for the moment, they all agreed they needed to get this amnesia thing seen to. Their best bet seemed to be the hospital, so they all made to leave the shop together. Hopefully, at least one of them had a car they could use. Buffy—or Joan—was in the lead. It felt natural, and none of the others seemed against it. As she opened the shop's door, the group was confronted by the sight of two men, their faces deformed by severe bumps and ridges, fangs gleaming in their gaping mouths. The amnesiacs screamed in terror. Joan slammed the door and they all ducked to the floor to avoid being spotted through the large windows.

"Omigod! Did you guys see that?" Joan exclaimed.

"Vampires!" Randy cried.

The door rattled under the force of the creatures' fists. "Slayer!"

Willow grabbed Xander's arm. "W-We need to check and see if there's other doors and make sure they're locked and put large objects in front of them. C'mon!" The two of them hurried to do just that.

Joan shook her head in amazement. "Monsters are real. Did we know this?"

"I don't know," Tara said, "But we n-need our memories back. We have to get to a hospital."

"Send out Spike!" one of the vampires shouted.

"They seem to want spikes," Giles said with a puzzled frown.

"Oh!" Randy scurried off somewhere, then returned with what looked like half a dozen table legs sharpened into points. "Let's give 'em these."

Joan picked up one of the spikes and stared at it in curiosity.

"But what're they gonna do with them?" Dawn asked.

"Slayer!" the vampires outside yelled, "Come out and play!"

Tara gasped, "'Slay her.' That's just what they said before! Th-They're going to use those spikes to—"

"To slay someone," Joan finished for her, "A female someone. Who do those jerks think they are?" She scowled in outrage.

Willow and Xander returned to tell them they'd found a trapdoor in the basement which apparently led to the sewers. As they all made a break for this potential escape route, the vampires burst through the display window in a shower of glass shards. The group of amnesiacs screamed and huddled together in a panic. One of the vampires snatched up Joan, while the other grabbed Randy and shoved him up against a row of shelves.

"You owe us," the creature snarled.

"Fine!" Randy yelled, digging out the wooden stakes he'd stuffed in his coat's inner pocket and flinging them at the vampire's feet, "Take your damn spikes!"

The vampire sneered. "Don't be stupid."

Behind him, the second vampire struggled to keep hold of a violently squirming Joan. "Get your hands off me, you son of a b—" Her invective was cut short by a hand over her mouth.

"I said you owe us," the first vamp repeated and loomed over Randy.

The blonde man stared up in confusion. "Who, me?"

The creature nodded. "You've got the boss's kittens."

"Kittens?" Randy grimaced in bewilderment. So far, nothing about this whole insane night was making any sense.

The second vampire yelled as Joan bit the hand covering her mouth. Slipping out of his loosened grasp, Joan spun and kicked the vampire hard in the stomach. As the creature went sprawling, she ran over to the vampire threatening Randy, grabbed his shoulder to turn him towards her, and yelled, "Hey! Stay away from Randy!"

The wooden spike she'd picked up earlier was still clutched in her hand. An unknown reflex caused her to drive it into the vamp's chest. The vampire gasped, then disintegrated into a pile of dust.

"Whoa," Dawn gasped, "What'd you just do?"

Joan looked at the spike in amazement. "I...I don't know," a smile crept across her face, "But it was cool!"

The second vampire ran for the exit. "Boss ain't gonna like this! I'll be back. And I won't be alone!"

"I'm like a superhero or something," Joan declared, ignoring the creature's threat for the moment.

Outside the shop, Loan Shark arrived with reinforcements. His boys were all for storming the place, but the demon told them to be patient. "The humans will turn on him soon enough. And if they don't, we'll burn the place to the ground."

Joan overheard this at the broken window. She hurried back to the others. "Okay, I've got a plan. They seem to want Randy. And I seem to be pretty strong. Wicked strong. So, you guys use the sewers to get to the hospital, and Randy and I'll give the monsters a run for their money."

"That's your plan?" Randy asked with a notable lack of confidence.

Joan nodded. "Yes."

"Right."

"I'm not leaving the shop," an emphatic Anya stated, "I have to protect the cash register and, uh, do some spells."

Giles nodded in agreement. "Oh, well magic might help. It's worth a shot."

Joan nodded. "Alright, you work on that, then. We need to go. Ready, Randy?"

"Ready, Joan."

"Um, s-s-son?" Giles interjected, "Come here, um, please." He beckoned. The peroxide blonde approached with a frown and the two men proceeded to exchange a painfully awkward hug. Joan bit back a laugh at the sight. That done, she and Randy waited for the others to make their way to the basement, then the two of them burst through the front door and went running down the street before the vampires had a chance to react. As Joan had hoped, the majority of the creatures began to chase after them.

One of the vamps caught up to Randy and grabbed his arm. Randy spun, oblivious to the transformation his face went through, and laid in a punch that sent the creature flying a good twenty feet.

Joan skidded to a halt, realizing she was alone. "Randy?"

The blonde man turned, his triumphant grin baring his newly sprung fangs. "Hey! I'm a superhero, too!"

Joan gaped in shock, then gave a frightened scream and ran off.

"Joan? Where are you going?" Randy tried to follow, but a couple more vampires attacked him. He fought them off, using moves he didn't realize he knew. As soon as his opponents were down, he chased after the runaway blonde girl. "Hey! Joan! Wait up!"

He caught up to her a few blocks away. By then she'd slowed to a walk. The moment he touched her shoulder, she grabbed his wrist, flipped him onto his back. She pinned him down by straddling him and raised her stake, ready to strike.

"Bloody hell! What're you doing?"

Joan frowned at him, realizing his confusion was real. "You don't know who you are."

Randy huffed, "Right, none of us do. And we're being chased by—"

"You're a vampire."

"How can you say—" he paused, lumpy brow wrinkled in puzzlement, "Me a vampire? No."

"Check the lumpies," she told him, "and the teeth."

He ran a hand across the pronounced ridges of his face, touched the sharp points of his fangs. His yellow eyes widened in surprise.

Joan cautiously lowered the stake in her hand. "I kill your kind."

"And I bite yours." Randy cocked his head. "So how come I don't wanna bite you? And why am I fighting other vampires?" A thought dawned. He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "I must be a noble vampire. A good guy on a mission of redemption," he said, warming up to the subject, "I help the helpless. I'm a vampire with a soul!"

"A vampire with a soul?" Joan echoed skeptically, "Oh, my god. How lame is that?"

Randy considered her response, then snorted in agreement. "You're right. Dunno where I came up with that rubbish." He looked up at her, somewhat thrilled that she was still sitting astride him. "I still don't want to bite you, though."

"I don't wanna stake you, either." Joan's gaze took in the details of Randy's vampiric face. There was something beautifully primal about the way he looked now. Sort of feline. Putting the stake down on the ground, she reached out and carefully touched the bumps of his face. Randy tensed.

"Uh, sorry." Joan quickly withdrew her hand.

"N-No, it's okay," Randy hastened to assure her, "Just surprised me, is all. Thought you were scared of me."

"I kinda was, at first. But now," she began to trace his strange features again, "It's weird, but...this feels familiar. I think we know each other."

Randy nodded, his expression thoughtful. Ever since he woke up in the magic shop, he'd kept sneaking glances at the gorgeous blonde girl. He felt drawn to her, but didn't think she'd give him a second thought, dressed like a ponce as he was. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe they _did_ know each other. Maybe they were...

Hesitant, he reached up and railed his fingers through a strand of long, honey-blonde hair. His yellow eyes darted to hers, wary for the slightest hint of disapproval. What he saw instead was the same strange familiarity. The same...attraction.

"Maybe it's not redemption I'm after," he murmured, slowly leaning closer, "Maybe I fight other vampires because..."

Joan's eyes became fixated on Randy's mouth. The full lips, the deadly fangs. Her heart began to pound. "Because we..."

A distant growl dragged their attention to an approaching gang of vampires. Randy bared his fangs in irritation. "Bollocks."

Joan snatched up her stake and jumped to her feet. Randy stood as well, his hand reaching into a coat pocket to retrieve a stake of his own. Together they rushed to meet the enemy.

* * *

Fighting separately, each was formidable. Fighting side by side as a team, they were all but unstoppable. However many vamps rushed them, they beat them back effortlessly. The air soon filled with the dust of defeated vampires. Joan laughed; she was loving this. The power surging through her, the defiance, the excitement. She and Randy worked together in perfect harmony, like a dance. It felt so right, so natural. This had to be what their lives were like before the amnesia. A partnership.

Randy grabbed a vampire from behind and held him still while Joan drove her stake into the creature's heart. Joan shouted in victory. "Ha! Don't mess with Joan of..."

She froze as a sudden wave of memories overtook her. It distracted her for a dangerous moment, allowing a vamp's kick to connect with her face. She fell, stunned, and her attacker drove his foot into her stomach.

"Buffy!" Spike shouted. His rage at seeing her hurt helped him fight off the remaining vampires. "From dust," he staked one vampire, then the other, leaving him the last one standing, "to dust."

"You're an odd duck, Mr. Spike," the Loan Shark sidled over, "Fighting your own kind, palling around with a Slayer. And, oh, that suit!" The demon chuckled. "Chutzpah must be your middle name." He shuffled his patent-leather shod feet. "Uh, hey, look, about our little debt problem. It's okay. I don't need the kittens."

Spike grabbed the demon's suit lapels and growled, "You'll get paid. I'm no welcher."

"Right, sure," the Loan Shark readily agreed, "You're good for it. I know that. I'm just going to, uh...yeah." He beat a hasty, but dignified, retreat.

Spike approached the downed Slayer. "You alright?" he asked, vamp-face creased in concern. He offered her a hand up. After a moment's hesitation, Buffy took it and let him pull her to her feet. Without a word to him she walked away, her pace slow to accommodate her unsteadiness. Her mind was roiling with a hundred thoughts. Minutes ago, she was carefree, enjoying the fight without any of the baggage that had been dragging her down for so long. Now that she knew how it felt to be so free, it made the memories' return that much more painful.

Spike watched her go, wishing he could follow. But he knew she would only push him away.

* * *

Giles was gone. He'd left for England as soon as everything got straightened out at the Magic Box. He barely took the time to say goodbye.

Tara was gone. She'd given Willow an ultimatum; no magic for one week. Willow hadn't even lasted a day. With the forgetting spell broken, Tara packed her things and left that very night.

Dawn was despondent. She locked herself in her room while Tara was moving out. Her muffled sobs could be heard through the door.

Willow was miserable, sitting in the bathroom so she wouldn't have to see the gaps in the room where her girlfriend's things used to be.

Buffy couldn't take another minute in that house of sorrows. She went to The Bronze, even though she didn't really want to be in any sort of crowd. But people seemed to pick up on her mood and gave her space as she sat alone at the bar. The live band was playing a song that suited her depressed mood.

"_Goodbye to you_

_Goodbye to everything that I knew_

_You were the one I loved_

_The one thing that I tried to hold on to..."_

It wasn't just the memories she had before that returned. For whatever reason, the shock of the spell wearing off brought back all the memories of Heaven that had been clouded before. Buffy remembered everything now. She remembered immersing herself into the stories of her friends' lives. She remembered returning again and again to Spike's long life. From his time as a lonely, awkward poet named William, to the century he tore through Europe as William the Bloody, to the most recent years he spent in Sunnydale. She knew all of it now, every detail that was Spike. And she knew he was the reason she left Heaven.

How could she have forgotten that? All these months wasted feeling sorry for herself, feeling guilty for her growing attraction to Spike, feeling angry at her friends for dragging back into this life. And all this time she'd _wanted_ this life. Wanted _him_. How could she just...forget?

She saw someone approach from the corner of her eye. She turned her head, saw Spike standing beside her. He'd changed back into his regular clothes. Black jeans, T-shirt, duster. He looked like he was trying to think of something to say to her. Buffy's chin trembled, the guilt overwhelming her. She looked away. Spike stood there a second longer, then walked away in defeat. Realizing that he'd left, Buffy felt a stab of panic and jumped up from the bar stool to hurry after the departing vampire. She caught up to him by the stairs leading up to the balcony. He stared down at her, expectant, cautious. Buffy opened her mouth, trying to find the words to tell him everything that had come back to her. All the things she knew about him, things he'd never shared with anyone, but would've gladly shared with her if she ever asked. She wanted to tell him she knew and understood him better than anyone else in her life. That she'd given up Heaven for him. She wanted him to forgive her for forgetting that—

"I love you."

Her words caused his blue eyes to widen and his lips to part. He looked like he wanted more than anything to believe her, but was afraid to. Buffy gripped the lapel of his coat in one hand, reached up with the other to touch his face. Spike's hands found their way to her waist and their bodies moved inexorably closer. When they kissed, Buffy nearly wept at the tenderness Spike showed. He poured all his love for her into this one simple act, and she responded in kind, telling him without words everything she wanted.

And the music, which had been full of sadness a moment ago, now swelled with a sound that was approaching hopeful.

"_Goodbye to you_

_Goodbye to everything that I knew_

_You were the one I loved..."_


	9. Chapter 9: Smashed

**A/N:** Here's where the story earns its M rating. And if you have to ask why, then you clearly haven't seen the episode. ;-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_A moment of passion is like a drug,_

_It takes me so high._

_Needing to get another fix,_

_A moment of passion can never lie._

_A moment of passion when we are alone,_

_You desire it, too._

_Unable to control it,_

_A moment of passion shared with you_.

--_A Moment Of Passio_n, by Kev Elmer

Two burly men with knives herded an average-looking middle-aged couple into an alley.

"I-I'm sure we can work something out," the husband stammered.

"A deal of some sort," the wife pleaded, "Anything you want!"

"I always wanted a pony."

All eyes turned to the petite blonde woman standing at the mouth of the alley. She was dressed in a severe black turtleneck sweater and her hair was parted into two braids.

"Oh, you weren't really speaking to me, were you?" she laughed in feigned embarrassment, "My bad. Well, as long as I'm here..." She leapt forward and kicked one of the attackers in the stomach. He fell back with a cry, bumping into his partner in the process, knocking them both into the light of a streetlamp. Surprised, Buffy laughed at the two very ordinary human men before her. "Wow. A mugging! Haven't gotten one of those in a while. Usually it's blood and with the horror," she shrugged, "Just a good old-fashioned mugging. Kinda sweet, actually."

She bent down to pick up the woman's dropped purse, noticed the couple's incredulous stares. "Oh, well, probably not for you. Here," she handed over the purse, "Go. Now."

The couple didn't need any further encouragement. As they ran off, one of the muggers tried to jump Buffy. She easily overpowered the much larger man and twisted his arm behind him. "Not too sweet for you, either, huh?" She looked at the other mugger, who was obviously trying to decide whether to help his friend or make a break for it. "C'mon, rush me," Buffy dared him with a grin, "It'll be funny."

A blur of platinum hair and black leather suddenly flew out of the darkness and slammed into the other man.

"No!" Buffy shouted, too late. The first mugger broke free of her grasp and ran off. The second scrambled up from the toppled packing crates where he and Spike had landed and took off as well. Buffy groaned in frustration and hurried over to where the vampire had fallen, found him sitting up and cradling his aching head in both hands. "What the hell are you doing?" Buffy snapped.

"I thought they were demons." Spike grudgingly accepted her help as he struggled to his feet.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Way to go with the keen observy-ness, Jessica Fletcher."

"Hey, a little sympathy for the man with the migraine here, can we?" Spike groaned. Hadn't had a wallop this bad from the chip in a long time.

Buffy felt a stab of sympathy and put her hands on the vampire's head, fingertips gently massaging his scalp. "Well, that's what you get for attacking a human," she chided.

"Yeah." Spike sighed at her soothing touch. Almost made the headache worth it. "You'd think if the government was gonna put a chip in my head they'd at least make it so I could attack criminals and that sort."

"Yes, because muggers deserve to be eaten," Buffy's tone dripped with sarcasm. Satisfied his immediate pain was eased, she let her hands drop to her sides and took a step back. "You'll just have to get your rocks off fighting demons."

Spike looked at her, his characteristic smirk sliding into place. "There are other ways," he drawled suggestively, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

Buffy tried to look annoyed, but a smile kept tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You have got a one track mind."

"Not my fault you're such a temptress." He nuzzled the side of her face.

"What're you talking about? I'm practically dressed like a nun!" She indicated her overly modest clothes.

One of Spike's hands left her waist to toy with one of her braids. "I dunno. I'm rather liking this whole Swiss Miss thing you've got going."

Buffy snickered. "Sounds like a fetish. Should I yodel?"

Spike grinned. "I can think of something better you can do with your mouth." He leaned in and captured her lips with his. The kiss started as soft and languid and quickly grew in intensity. Spike's arms tightened around her waist while Buffy's slid around his neck. Her faint moan sent a jolt of pleasure straight to Spike's groin. When they finally drew apart, they were both panting as if they'd run a marathon.

"Y'know, my crypt isn't that far..."

Buffy pressed her forehead to his. "I can't. It's late, and I promised Willow I'd be home before she went to sleep." She winced in regret. "She's been having a hard time since Tara moved out. Dawn, too. They need me."

"_I_ need you," Spike all but whined. It had been over a week since the incident with the forgetting spell—and subsequent deepening of their relationship—and since then they'd hardly done more than some intense, heavy makeout sessions before Buffy's sense of obligation sent her back home to her heartbroken friend and younger sister. Spike wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

Buffy gently disentangled herself from his embrace. "I'm sorry. I really don't wanna go—"

"Then don't."

"I have to." She planted one last, brief kiss on his lips before walking away.

"You're a tease, you know that, Slayer?" Spike called after her, only half joking, "Get a fella's motor revvin', let the tension marinate a couple of days, then bam! Crown yourself the ice queen."

"Need a few more metaphors for that little mix?" Buffy tossed over her shoulder.

Spike growled.

"See ya tomorrow night for patrol," Buffy called back, "I love you."

Spike watched her disappear around the corner, then muttered solemnly, "Love you more, pet."

He shoved his hands into his duster pockets and made his way towards Restfield. Since the first time Buffy declared her love for him he'd been living in a state of euphoric dread. The dread part was due mostly to the suspicion that Buffy's sudden change of heart might be nothing more than her mind's way of trying to deal with yet another traumatic event in her life, i.e. the sudden loss and then regaining of all her memories at once. She'd told him that she was now able to remember her time in Heaven, and how she'd been able to witness and even experience his entire life. That she fell in love with him and chose to leave Heaven to be with him. It was a romantic notion that appealed to the William part of him, and more than a little bolstering to the ego, but Spike couldn't ignore the doubts that continued to gnaw at him. If all this was just some psychological defense mechanism for her, then it was only a matter of time before she recovered her senses and fled from him in disgust. Probably with a hard kick to the bollocks for good measure.

Spike uttered a self-deprecating snort. He finally got what he wanted, the Slayer's heart, and all he could think about was how he was going to lose her. Bloody idiot. _Don't think about it. Just focus on now. Right now, she's all yours._ He would try to focus on that, hold on to every moment, so the memories would sustain him in the future, when memories were all he'd have left.

* * *

Buffy had expected to find Willow moping in front of the TV like she had every night since Tara left. Instead, Buffy was shocked to discover that her friend had finally managed to change Amy the rat back into Amy the girl. It was so weird seeing their old classmate as a human once again. Though not half as weird as it was for Amy.

"Hey." Buffy entered the living room, finding Amy sitting on the couch with a plate of cookies on her lap and the TV on. "How you doin'? You need anything?"

Amy hit the mute button on the TV remote. "No, thanks. Good cookies." She smiled. An awkward silence fell between them for a moment. "Um, sorry about your mom."

"Thanks."

Amy shook her head in dismay. "It's crazy, all the things that have happened since I went away."

"No kidding," Buffy snorted. Just listing the things that happened in the last few months was enough to make her head spin, and she'd been there for it!

"Snyder got eaten by a snake," Amy recited, "the high school got destroyed."

"Oh, Gatorade has a new flavor. Blue."

"See? Head spinning." Amy shook her head again. "People getting frozen, Willow's dating girls, and did you hear about Tom and Nicole?"

Buffy frowned. "People getting frozen?"

Amy picked up the remote and turned the volume up again on the TV. A nondescript reporter was shown standing in front of a building surrounded by flashing police lights. _"—in critical, yet stable, condition as local authorities continue their investigation into the robbery that left one man frozen solid. Live from the museum, Brian Morris, K-OUS."_

Buffy's eyes widened in astonishment.

"Weird," Amy muttered.

* * *

There was quite a crowd gathered in front of the museum. And for whatever reason, they all seemed to be within the six-foot height range. Buffy hopped up and down a couple of times, trying to see over their shoulders, before she gave up and squeezed her way through the crowd of onlookers. Sometimes, she really wished becoming the Slayer had included gaining a couple more inches of height along with the super strength and healing.

Buffy reached the front row just as the paramedics were wheeling the frozen security guard out on a dolly. It looked comical, like something out of a cheesy movie. The poor guy was like a statue. It was a wonder he was still alive.

Realizing she wouldn't get anything more out of the scene while it was so busy, Buffy left the museum grounds and headed back for home. Just as the flashing lights were fading behind her, Spike suddenly appeared in her path.

"Well, well, well," the vampire drawled, "Look who decided to show up."

"What're you doing here?"

Spike schooled his features into an innocent expression. "Well, y'know a man was frozen alive in there." He pointed towards the museum. "A little compassion, luv."

Buffy smirked. "So, you're here out of the goodness of your heart."

"Sure. Why else would I show up?" Spike gave her a sly look.

Buffy smiled and looped her arm with his. "Since you're here, walk me home?"

"Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't give my lady an escort."

They strolled in comfortable silence together, neither one of them in a hurry to reach their destination.

"Any ideas what kind of demon could've done it?" Buffy finally asked.

Spike shook his head. "Not a clue. But there's a lot of demons out there I don't know about. Can't rule out witches or sorcerers, either."

"Right," Buffy sighed. Looked like a long day of research was ahead of her. Joy.

"How's the Little Bit?" Spike asked.

"Fine. Been keeping to herself lately, since Tara left." She perked up a little. "Oh! Willow fixed Amy."

The vampire frowned in confusion. "You mean that pet rat of hers?"

Oh, right. Spike never met Amy when she was a human. Buffy ran through the story of how Amy dabbled in magic when they were in high school, and when the Hansel-and-Gretel demon brainwashed all the parents into staging a witch hunt, Amy turned herself into a rat to avoid getting burned at the stake. "And she's been stuck like that ever since. 'Til now, anyway."

Spike shook his head, chuckling. "Trapped in a rodent's body. Daft bint."

"It was either that or wind up as barbecue," Buffy argued.

"'S what happens when you play around with magic," Spike warned, "There's always consequences."

Buffy pursed her lips, thinking of Willow's growing obsession with the dark arts.

A sudden blow to her back sent Buffy sprawling on the pavement. She rolled and leapt to her feet to find a fledgeling vampire charging towards her. Spike was busy fending off a couple of others. Buffy grabbed her stake from its sheath at the small of her back and quickly dispatched the vamp attacking her. She then ran over and staked another while Spike wrestled with the last one. Buffy tried to rush in and help, only to get an elbow to the face for her trouble.

"Sorry!" Spike yelled, driving a stake he'd retrieved from his coat pocket into the last vamp's chest. As the creature disintegrated, he hurried over to Buffy's side. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Nose is intact." She grinned ruefully. "How's your head?"

Spike blinked in surprise. "Uh...fine."

"Good." Buffy glanced behind her. "We're just a block from my house. Why don't you go ahead and head back to your crypt? I'll try to see you tomorrow, if I don't get swamped researching this new big bad." She stood up on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Bye."

"Yeah," Spike replied vaguely. He was hardly aware of the Slayer's departure, too distracted by this shocking new revelation. The chip hadn't fired when he accidentally hit Buffy. Not even a tingle. How the bloody hell was that possible? Was it broken? He needed to find out for sure.

Spike made his way downtown. Even this late at night, in this moderate-sized town, the place was bustling. For the first time in quite a while, Spike gazed at the people around him with a predator's eye. "Look at all the goodies."

When was the last time he even felt the urge to kill? He couldn't remember. Truth was, he didn't really want to now, even with the possibility that he actually could. _Buffy wouldn't like it._ Didn't matter that there were ways to ensure she never found out. Just the thought doing something that would upset Buffy was enough to quell any killer urges. Was this what having a conscience was like? Bloody hell, it was annoying!

His eyes lit on a young woman standing alone by the curb, shoulders hunched against the cold. She checked her watch with a look of frustration, then began to make her way down the street, away from the crowds. Spike followed at a distance until he saw her turn at a deserted backstreet. He closed the distance between them, his boots not making a sound.

_That's right_, he told himself, _You remember how this goes. Creature of the night here, yeah? Some people forget that. Think you're housebroken._

His nostrils flared as he took in his prey's scent. She smelled of perfume and deodorant and flowery shampoo, and underneath all that, of warm, living blood.

_I know what I am. I'm dangerous. I'm evil._

A breeze swept the woman's hair back and to the side, revealing the slope of her neck. Spike felt as if his palms were sweaty, even though as a vampire he hardly ever broke a sweat.

_I am a killer. That's what I do. I kill. And yeah, maybe it's been a long time, but it's not like you forget how. You just...do it. And now I can again, all right? So...here goes._

Spike morphed into his game face.

_Just do it. You don't have to drain her. Just feed. Prove you've still got teeth._

"This might hurt a little," he murmured, then lunged. The woman screamed in fear a fraction of a second before Spike yelled and reeled away, clutching his head as pain lanced through his skull. His erstwhile victim threw a terrified glance his way and took off running. Spike slumped against a nearby dumpster. "What the hell is going on?"

Nothing else for it; Spike needed to get his chip looked at. Fortunately, he happened to know a tech geek who wasn't too hard to intimidate.

Spike spent a restless day in his crypt wearing a rut in the floor with his constant pacing. The sun had barely set when he finally dashed outside and made his way to the right house. His keen ears picked up the voice of his quarry, along with a couple of others, coming from the basement. Luckily, the basement had outside access. He yanked open the doors, startling the three young men inside. As he stalked towards them, the trio hastily backed away.

"Hello? It's called knocking," the blonde of the group admonished.

Spike loomed over the tallest of the three, the man named Warren. The vampire grinned and rapped his knuckles against Warren's head. "Knock knock, robot boy. You need to look at my chip."

"Is that, like, British slang or something?" the shortest of the group asked, "'Cause, we're not—"

"In my head," Spike growled impatiently, "The chip in my head."

"We're kinda in the middle of something," Warren said.

"Well, you can play holodeck another time. Right now, I'm in charge."

"Yeah?" Warren tried his best to look assertive. "What're you gonna do if we don't especially feel like playing your— Wait, what are you doing?"

Spike had wandered over to a table displaying some of the many, _many_ sci-fi paraphernalia to be found in this geeks' den. He picked up an action figure from its stand and held it in both hands like a twig he was about to snap in two. "Examine my chip, or else Mister..." he glanced at the nameplate on the display stand, "Fett here is the first to die."

The boys could not have looked more horrified if he'd threatened their firstborn.

"Hey! All-All right. Let's not—Let's not do anything crazy here," the short one stammered.

The blonde squeaked, "That's a limited edition 1979 mint condition Boba Fett!"

"Alright, dude, chill," Warren tried to talk the vampire down, "You can still make this right. You _know_ you don't wanna do this."

Spike rolled his eyes at the dramatics. "What I want is answers, nimrod."

"Right. But you don't wanna hurt the Fett. Because, man, you're not comin' back from that. You know, you don't just do that and walk away!"

_No wonder this idiot needed to build his own girlfriend._ "That right? Let's find out." He made as if to break the toy in half.

Warren flung up both hands. "Wa-uh, one second!" He and his friends held a quick confab while Spike paced back and forth, tossing the action figure from one hand to the other as he waited. Though his vampire hearing was more than up to the task of listening in on their furtive whispers, he didn't bother. If he had, things would've gone very differently for everyone down the road.

Having apparently reached an agreement, the three nerds turned to address him. "I think we can work something out," Warren said, "I'll take a look at your chip. It'll be a deal. We'll scratch your back, you scratch—"

"I'm not scratching your anything," Spike interrupted, "You do what I tell you. That's the deal. Deal?"

He didn't even need to make it sound all that threatening. Warren instantly caved. "Deal."

Satisfied, Spike tossed the hostage toy over to the blonde geek. The guy fawned over it, practically in tears. "Okay. It's okay. It'll be fine."

Spike rolled his eyes and followed Warren over to a makeshift lab.

"Lie down here," Warren indicated a worktable.

Spike shrugged out of his duster and lay down, hands behind his head. Warren attached a couple of electrodes to the vampire's temples, then ran some kind of hand scanner over his head. There were a lot of blinking lights and blippy noises, most of which Spike suspected were just for effect, then Warren set the scanner aside and removed the 'trodes.

"Okay, it'll take a few minutes to analyze the readings. You, uh, just make yourself comfortable." The tech wiz indicated a lounging area nearby. The other two guys were already sitting together on a couple of the chairs, the blonde one still cradling the action figure in his hands. Spike put his coat back on and seated himself in a comfortable looking chair.

After a few minutes of bored silence, the blonde guy asked, "You're English, right?"

Spike threw him a sidelong glare. "Yeah."

"I've seen every episode of _Doctor Who,_" the geek declared proudly,_ "_Not _Red Dwarf_, though, 'cause, um..."

"'Cause it's not out yet on DVD," the short one said.

The blonde nodded in agreement. "Right. It's not out yet on...DVD," his sentence trailed off feebly.

Spike stared at them for a moment, then bellowed, _"Warren!"_

The techie hurried over with a sheaf of papers in hand. "Here I am! Here."

"Bloody hell, get on with it, then." Spike snagged the papers from him and scrutinized the incomprehensible numbers and graphs. He sighed and handed them back. "Help me out here, Spock. I don't speak loser."

"Okay, well, um... Your chip works fine," Warren shrugged.

That certainly wasn't the answer the vampire expected. "There's gotta be something wrong—"

"No, no," Warren stated emphatically, "Listen... I don't know what that thing does. I'd like to."

Spike gave him a warning look. No way in hell was he letting these idiots know he was toothless.

"B-But whatever it is, it works fine," Warren hastened to assure him, "There's no deterioration of the signal. It's still coming through in a steady pulse, which it's supposed to..." He backed away nervously as Spike rose from his seat, looming over him.

"If you're lying to me—" the vampire growled.

"No! It's all right here," he pointed at the papers, "I mean, it is. It's really not that hard to figure out if you just... What?"

Spike's expression had taken on a faraway look as the full implications of what he'd just learned began to sink in. A slow grin made its way across his face. Warren shuddered at the sight. Spike's attention abruptly returned to him. "You tell anyone about this..."

"I-I promise. Wh-Who would I tell? I don't even know what this is about."

"It's about the rules having changed." Spike marched over to the stairs leading to the basement's exit, leaving the bewildered trio behind. "Everything's different now," he murmured to himself.

Spike was elated. With this knowledge, Buffy's change in attitude towards him, falling in love with him, finally made sense. It wasn't some temporary coping mechanism as he'd feared. Red hadn't been as successful at her resurrection spell as everyone believed; Buffy was different. "Nothing wrong with me," Spike grinned, "Something wrong with her."

* * *

Buffy's expectation of a long and boring day of research proved well founded. She, Xander, and Anya spent pretty much the entire day and a big part of the night poring through dusty, painfully dull books trying to find anything fitting the description of a diamond-stealing ice-monster. So far, the only thing remotely like that was a creature Xander discovered which turned out to be a character in a D&D manual.

This was one of those times when she felt Giles's absence the most. Buffy was sure he would've found whatever they were looking for by now and had a nice presentation ready, complete with the preferred killing methods. _We suck at research,_ she thought despairingly.

The mood didn't improve much when, while taking a breather from the reading, the subject of Willow and her ever more disturbing reliance on magic came up. Buffy didn't like the thought of sweet, reliable, level-headed Willow becoming drunk on power and losing control of herself. It was a relief when the phone rang, interrupting the discussion. Buffy practically ran to answer it.

"Hello, Magic Box!" she chirped.

_"Slayer."_

Buffy frowned. "Spike?"

_"Meet me at the cemetery. Twenty minutes. Come alone."_

"Spike?" she repeated, bewildered.

An impatient sigh echoed through the receiver. _"Bloody hell. Yes, it's me."_

"You're...calling me on the phone?" The vampire had never bothered to do that before. He always preferred to just show up.

_"Just be there,"_ Spike snapped.

"Why? D'you have a lead on this frost-monster thingie?"

_"Something like that, yeah. Thought you might be up for a little grunt work."_

Buffy chewed her lip. "I dunno if I can. We still have some books we haven't looked through yet."

_"I'll be waiting,"_ Spike said, then hung up. Buffy returned the phone to its hook and walked back over to the book-laden table.

"So, what'd Captain Peroxide want?" Xander asked.

"He just wanted to see if I wanted to patrol for the monster."

"Maybe you should," her friend shrugged, "Give your brain a rest."

"And leave all the fun to you two?" Buffy snorted, "Not a chance."

By the time they finally decided to pack it in for the night, she wished she'd taken Xander's suggestion and blown off the book work. Her eyes were strained and her shoulders ached from sitting hunched over so long.

"Something about all this," she sighed, "All the things that have happened lately. The bank robbery, the jewelry heist."

"Exploding lint," Xander added.

Buffy nodded. "Is it me, or do those things seem really..."

"Lame?" Anya supplied.

"Well, I was gonna go with unusual, but yeah." She shook her head. "I dunno. I'll do a quick patrol tonight and after a good night's sleep, hopefully, we can solve this tomorrow."

The others offered their weary agreement.

"Good night, guys."

"Night," the couple echoed, and the three of them parted ways; Anya and Xander to their apartment, and Buffy towards her usual patrol route.

She was cutting through a poorly lit alley near some rundown buildings when a dark figure stepped into her path. "Slayer."

"Spike!" She jumped. It said something about her level of tiredness that she hadn't even sensed him. "What're you doing here?"

"You never showed," the vampire accused.

"Well, I told you I was still doing research. Fat lotta good that did," she muttered, "So, what about you? Hear anything about a frost-monster who eats diamonds?"

"No." There was a strange intensity to the way he was staring at her.

Buffy frowned. "You okay?"

"There's something I need to show you."

"What?"

Without warning, Spike lashed out and punched her shoulder. Buffy stumbled back, more startled than hurt. "What the hell are you—"

"Oh, the pain," Spike uttered without a trace of sincerity, "The pain...is gone. Guess what I just found out. Looks like I'm not as toothless as we thought, sweetheart."

Buffy gaped at him. "How?"

Spike grinned. "Don't you get it? Don't you see? You came back wrong."

"Th-There's gotta be something wrong with the chip—"

"No," he shook his head, "It's not me, it's you. _Just_ you, in fact. Chip works fine with other humans. You're the one that's changed. That's why this," he punched her other shoulder, "doesn't hurt me."

Buffy started to tremble. "I...I'm not..."

Seeing how upset she was getting, Spike let his tone soften the slightest bit. "This isn't a bad thing, luv."

"How can you say that?" she all but shouted, "I could be changing into some kind of evil _thing_ and not even know it!"

"And how's that make you feel?"

"Scared!" she cried, "And-and disgusted and—"

"Guilty?" Spike cocked an eyebrow.

Buffy opened her mouth to shout at him, then paused as she realized what he was getting at. "Y-Yeah. Guilty." Her shoulders sagged in relief. "I still have a soul."

Spike stepped closer to her, a broad grin on his shadowed face. "You're not turning evil, luv. What this does mean," he widened his stance, "is we're on equal terms, now. You hit me, I hit you back."

"I'm not gonna hit you."

"You sure about that?" He cocked his head. "You telling me you don't miss it? The fighting? I bloody well do." He grinned, tongue curled behind his teeth. "Those times we danced were some of the best fights of my life. Never knew whether I'd win or lose with you. There's no better high than that; pitting yourself against someone every bit as strong and fast as you, never knowing what the outcome'll be." His grin broadened. "Tell me you don't wish you had a sparring partner worthy of you."

Buffy unconsciously mimicked his stance, feet apart, shoulders squared. She remembered the times the two of them fought, and aside from the whole trying to kill each other part, she had to admit those fights were some of the most exciting she'd ever had. More than once, while working out in the training room, she'd wished she had somebody to spar with. Someone she didn't always have to hold herself back from damaging.

Spike heard her rising heartbeat, smelled her growing excitement. He raised both his fists. "C'mon, Slayer. You know you wanna dance."

A slow, feral smile edged its way across her face. Hands curling into hard fists, she lunged.

* * *

To an outsider, the ensuing clash would have looked incredibly brutal. They held nothing back, not because they wanted to hurt each other, but because they knew how much they could take. And they could take a lot.

For the first time since her resurrection, Buffy felt completely free. She released all her fear, aggravation, and pain in the powerful blows she rained down on her opponent. And she easily shook off the kicks and punches inflicted on her in turn. Spike was right, it was a dance. A deadly, primal, glorious dance. She didn't realize until that moment how much she'd missed it. Missed facing off with Spike as an equal. He helped her tap into the darker side of herself; the part of her she'd always been secretly ashamed of, because she enjoyed it so much. But it was where her strength came from. It was what made her the Slayer.

They fought their way further down the alley and slammed into the door of an abandoned tenement. The door splintered from the impact and the two combatants tumbled into the building. If anything, once inside, their fighting's intensity increased. A kick to Buffy's midsection sent her flying into a wall, denting it severely and sending cracks radiating from floor to ceiling. Buffy flung Spike across the room and his body collided with a fireplace, shattering bricks and sending mortar dust flying. They slammed each other against walls, into support beams. The old building groaned and shuddered as if in pain.

Spike had Buffy pinned against the half-demolished stairs, laughing wickedly. Buffy punched him in the jaw. He responded with a swift backhand, grabbed her by the collar of her denim jacket, and yanked her close. "Don't look so serious, pet. I'm not planning on hurting you...much," he taunted.

"You haven't even come close to hurting me," Buffy countered with a daring grin.

"Afraid to give me the chance?"

Buffy knocked his arms away, grabbed him, and slammed him up against a wall.

He sneered at her. "You afraid I'm gonna—"

Buffy cut him off with a hard, devouring kiss. They clutched at each other, Buffy's fist inadvertently punching through the wall. Spike spun them around, shoved Buffy against the wall. Huge cracks formed in the plaster. The building's shudders grew in violence as its aged walls began to collapse from the abuse. Buffy shoved Spike away from her, chased after him as he staggered. An overhead beam fell on the spot where they'd stood an instant before. Spike's back impacted with another crumbling wall and Buffy resumed their brutal kissing. He grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up, her long skirt rucked to her hips as her legs wrapped around his waist. Even over the noise of the building demolishing itself, the sound of of Spike's fly being unzipped was almost explosive. In seconds Buffy's small hand freed him from his jeans. She pushed aside her thong underwear and impaled herself on him.

Their kiss ended with a gasp and their violent actions abruptly halted. They gazed at each other in stunned amazement, Spike's eyes blinking rapidly as his mind struggled to comprehend that this was really happening. Wordlessly, Buffy began to move, soft gasps escaping her open mouth. Spike pulled her into another kiss and turned them around until her back was pressed to the wall. He used the added leverage to thrust deeper into her. His mouth left hers to suck at her neck. Buffy groaned, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other scrambling to find a handhold on the wall behind her. A sudden jolt of the unstable building sent Spike stumbling back, Buffy still wrapped around him. He lost his balance and fell, their joined bodies crashing through the floor and landing with a hard thud in the basement below.

They didn't feel it, didn't see the building tumbling down around them. For Spike there was only Buffy, her hands on either side of his head, leaning over him as she rode him. And for Buffy there was only Spike, his blue eyes gazing up at her in wondrous rapture.


	10. Chapter 10: Wrecked

**A/N: **Well, I kept busy during the weekend and finished two whole chapters! Happy reading, everybody!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_What have I became_

_in this false fantasy?_

_Thriving on something sweet,_

_submerging into another world._

_Without it I tumble_

_transforming into nothing._

_I'm locked in a stalemate_

_not capable to stir._

_Look closely through my eyes,_

_as deep as the end of sight._

_See! My ailment and do_

_your very best to repair._

_Save me from this ogre_

_I have become, before_

_I sit in a dark painful void..._

_lost inside my addiction._

-_Addiction_, by Claire Nixon

Buffy gradually woke to find her head pillowed against something firm and cool. It rose and fell in a slow, comforting rhythm. Her eyes cracked open to see a span of pale skin; she was lying on Spike's bare chest. Buffy mumbled and snuggled closer, then gasped and sat up, staring around her with wide, bewildered eyes. She and Spike were both sprawled in the middle of what looked like a bomb site. Rubble and broken timbers were piled up all around them, thin shafts of light cutting through the gaps. Buffy looked down at herself and saw she wore nothing but Spike's duster draped over her like a blanket. Spike didn't even have that much on. Both of their bodies were covered in scratches and bruises. What the hell did they do last night?

_Oh, right, we..._ She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and bit back a giddy laugh. Her smile broadened as she saw the vampire start to rouse. He looked up at her with sleep-glazed eyes. As they slowly cleared, he smiled drowsily. "Hey."

"Hey. Um," she looked around them, "When did the building fall down?"

Spike followed her gaze to their surroundings. A quiet, surprised chuckle escaped him. "I don't know. Must have been sometime between the first time and the, uh..." His eyes met hers and he grinned.

"Oh." Buffy smiled back. Then the realization occurred that those beams of light were in fact sunlight and she jumped to her feet in panic. "Oh, my god! It's morning!"

Spike watched, bemused, as Buffy scrabbled about, collecting her strewn clothes while at the same time trying to keep herself covered with his coat. As if he wasn't familiar with every freckle of her body after last night.

Buffy got dressed quickly, her hair still a frazzled mess, and hopped on one foot as she pulled on the single boot she'd found. Once it was on, she began searching for its mate. "Shoe. I need my shoe," she muttered to herself.

"What's the hurry, luv?" Spike asked, still lounging naked on the floor.

"I left Dawn all night."

"Not alone," Spike reasoned, "I'm sure Red was there to see to the Niblet."

"That's not the point! I've never been gone this long before without getting word back to let them know I'm okay. They're probably frantic." She found her second boot wedged between a couple of fallen boards and put it on.

"I just don't see why you have to run off so quick. Thought we could..." he smirked suggestively.

Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "_Again?_ Wasn't last night's marathon enough?" She saw her denim jacket draped over some rubble across the room and moved to fetch it. Spike suddenly grabbed her as she started past him and yanked her down onto his lap. "Spike!" Buffy squirmed, "Let me go!"

"Make me," he taunted, then pulled her into a breath-stealing kiss. Buffy's willpower melted and she flung her arms around him. "Mmm, no," she protested feebly, "I have—I have to go."

"Stay," Spike panted against her lips, "I'm stuck here. Sun's out." He rolled them until Buffy's back was on the ground. She moaned as his mouth traveled down to her neck. His lips brushed against the scar left by the previous vampires that had bitten her: the Master, Angel, Dracula. They'd all left their mark on her. A possessive growl rumbled in Spike's throat. He wanted to sink his fangs into her flesh and obliterate those interlopers' marks, show the world the Slayer was _his_ and only his. It took all his self-control to keep from slipping into his gameface and doing just that. Instead, he sucked hard on those puckered scars, causing Buffy to arch beneath him. His hands pulled up her skirt and he settled himself between her open legs. She was already wet and ready for him. He slid in, groaning at the feel of her tight heat enveloping him. He raised himself onto his arms and gazed down at her as he began to move in slow thrusts.

"I knew it," his voice quavered, "I knew the only thing better than killing a Slayer would be fucking one."

Buffy laughed. _Oh, my god. He's as bad as me! His emotions run high and he blabs out the first thing in his head._ It was a trait they shared; one which had gotten Buffy in trouble more than once. If she hadn't understood that about him his tactless words would have pissed her off. "That's what this is about?" she teased, "Doing a Slayer?"

"I wouldn't throw stones, pet. You seem to be quite the groupie yourself." He leaned down to breathe in her ear, "Vampires get you hot."

"Not vampires," she sucked on his earlobe, "You. Just you."

"Oh, god, Buffy," her words drove him to quicken the pace, "I love you. Love you so bloody much."

"Spike!" Buffy keened. Her body trembled as she reached her peak. Spike buried his face in the crook of her neck and moaned, his own climax washing over him.

They lay together in the blissful afterglow. Buffy ran her hands over the planes of his back. In the indirect light of morning, Spike's skin had an almost golden hue. "You're beautiful," she whispered.

Spike stirred, raised his head just enough to kiss her. Unlike their passion-fueled kisses before, this one was sweet and gentle. When it ended, Buffy's brow furrowed in remorse. "I-I really have to—"

"I know," he sighed, "Little Bit needs you."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he smiled, "I'll be fine here 'til sunset." He withdrew from her with a sigh of regret and got up, helping Buffy to her feet. He found his jeans lying nearby and slipped them on. "I'll see you again tonight, yeah?" There was the faintest hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Buffy brought her hand to his cheek. "Yeah." She leaned in and kissed him. "Tonight can't come soon enough. I love you."

"Love you, too." He watched her start to pick her way through the rubble towards the basement's exit. "Buffy."

She turned, a question in her eyes.

Spike reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the frilly bit of lace that was her thong underwear. "You, uh, gonna want these, too?" He smirked.

* * *

When she arrived home Buffy passed Tara in the hall on her way out. The quiet blonde woman kept her head down, and Buffy was too surprised and sleep-deprived to say anything before Tara was out the door. She wandered into the kitchen to find Dawn behind the breakfast bar and Willow and Amy standing by the backdoor. The latter two women looked just as worn out as Buffy felt.

"Buffy!" Dawn exclaimed, "Where were you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Buffy made her careful way to one of the stools.

"You're not," Dawn disagreed in obvious worry, "You're all sore and limpy."

"I-I'm not sore," Buffy winced as she slowly lowered herself onto the stool, "I just, uh, had a fight. Y'know, the all-nighter kind."

This explanation seemed to reassure her sister a little. "Figured. I knew that's why you didn't call. So, what's the big bad? Should we be worried?"

Buffy bit her lip, hoping no one noticed the blush she felt coming on. "Nooo. I think you guys are safe." She quickly changed he subject, "Tara was here?"

"I guess she stayed over with Dawn," Willow said.

Buffy frowned. "You guess? Where were you?"

"We went out," Willow indicated herself and Amy, "Kinda lost track of time."

"Oh." Great. As if Buffy didn't feel guilty enough about not coming home last night.

"I-I never would have if I knew you weren't coming home," Willow stammered, unwittingly compounding her friend's remorse.

"No, o-of course," she hurried to reassure the redhead, "I mean, you know...it wasn't intentional. And, y'know, everyone's safe." She turned to her sister. "You are, right? You're okay?"

"Oh, yeah! I mean, um, I think my pancakes are burning, but..." The teen shrugged.

Willow went to the stove and turned off the burner. She stared down at the ruined pancake, a lump forming in her throat.

"Tara was making them," Dawn explained unnecessarily.

Willow shook herself out of her sad reverie. "I've, uh...I've got to get some sleep."

"Me too," Buffy said, rising from her seat.

Amy nodded and headed for the door. "Yeah, I should go home. Dad's expecting me."

"Okay, I'll call you later," Willow said to her. Amy waved and left the house.

Buffy took a step closer to Dawn, her expression concerned. "Are you sure you're alright? I'm sorry about everything."

"It's okay," Dawn shrugged again, "You should rest. You're beat from monster wrestling all night."

_You have no idea,_ Buffy thought. "Yeah. Right. Thanks."

"Yeah, I'm gonna crash, too," Willow stated, following Buffy upstairs to their bedrooms.

"And I'll just...go find some awake people," Dawn sighed.

* * *

One of the advantages of being the Slayer: quick recovery time. After a few hours of near-comatose sleep, Buffy woke refreshed and mostly ache-free. She took a long shower and changed into some fresh clothes. Some makeup covered the more visible bruises—some of them gained during the sparring match with Spike, the rest from the subsequent rigorous activities. She started to tie her hair back when she noticed a massive hickey on the side of her neck that all but obscured her bite scars. Buffy snorted in amusement and left her hair down instead. Wasn't like she hadn't left a few hickeys of her own on Spike's fair skin.

Satisfied with her appearance, Buffy left her bedroom and headed for the stairs. Along the way she noticed the door to Willow's room was closed. Apparently the redhead still had a lot of sleep to catch up on.

Buffy found Dawn in the living room watching TV and snacking on a bag of Doritos. The teen smiled brightly in greeting. "Afternoon, sleepyhead! Feeling better?"

"Much." Buffy sat down next to her. "Hey, Dawn, can I talk to you for a sec?"

The girl muted the TV. "What's up?"

"There's something I need to tell you. About last night."

"This about how you got that hickey?"

Buffy's eyes widened. Her hand flew to her neck. "You saw that?"

Dawn grinned. "Yeah, when you got home. I don't think Willow noticed, though."

"Oh. Good. I mean, I'm not ready to share this with any of the others. But I thought you should know..."

"So, who is it?" Dawn leaned forward eagerly. "Anybody I know?"

Buffy felt a smile pulling at her lips. "Spike."

Dawn's eyes bugged, then she squealed and flung her arms around her older sister's neck. "Ohmigod! I _knew_ it!"

Relieved by the teen's enthusiastic response, Buffy laughed and hugged her back. "I take it you're not unhappy."

The girl drew back. "Are you kidding? I totally saw this coming! You've been acting different around him ever since you came back." Dawn practically bounced up and down in excitement. "He totally loves you, y'know."

"I know," Buffy smiled, "I love him, too."

"So, does this mean he'll start coming by more?"

"Maybe." Buffy shifted in her seat. "I'm not all that ready to let the others know about this. I only told you because I thought you had a right to know. I'd like to keep it between us for now."

Dawn nodded emphatically. "No problem. I totally get it. You're not ready to deal with everybody's judgeyness."

"Yeah," Buffy grimaced. Much as she loved her friends, she knew they wouldn't understand or condone her relationship with Spike. She would tell them eventually, but for now she just wanted to enjoy what she and the vampire now had.

"Thanks for telling me." Dawn smiled in gratitude.

Buffy kissed the girl's forehead. "Nobody I trust with this more than you, Dawnie."

Buffy spent the rest of the afternoon and evening at the Magic Box with Xander and Anya; more fruitless research on the diamond-stealing frost-monster. Whatever this thing was, it didn't exist in any of the books. Buffy was beginning to wonder if it was some kind of man-made creature, like Adam.

When night fell, she called home to let Dawn know she was going out on patrol.

_"With Spike?"_ the girl asked, her sly grin obvious even over the phone.

"Probably," Buffy replied primly, "I'll try to be home at a more reasonable hour, though. No more all-nighters for a while."

_"It's okay if you do. Willow's here, so I won't be alone."_

"I'll see you later. Love you, Dawnie."

_"Have fun 'patrolling,'"_ the teen giggled and hung up.

Buffy rolled her eyes, then left the magic shop and headed for Restfield Cemetery.

She sensed him before she saw him. Her entire body tingled in anticipation as Spike stepped into view from behind a mausoleum. He stood with his hands in his duster pockets, mouth stretched in a suggestive grin. "Slayer," he drawled. His teeth curled behind his teeth.

Buffy's plan to play it cool flew away as she practically lunged at him. The impact of her body against his sent Spike staggering until his back collided with the wall of the mausoleum. He chuckled into Buffy's mouth as she hungrily kissed him. "Thought you wanted to patrol," he said when their lips finally parted.

"Patrol later," she panted, half dragging him in the direction of his crypt. Spike wasn't about to argue.

The night before had been about passion and release. This time, they made love slowly, exploring each other's bodies with soft caresses and questing lips. They whispered tender words of love as they moved together in perfect harmony. It was an aspect of their eternal dance that they hadn't experienced before. They held each other afterwards, reluctant to break the afterglow.

"I didn't know I could get this happy," Buffy murmured and snuggled closer. She was sorely tempted to blow off patrol altogether and just stay with Spike in his crypt. But as usual, her sense of duty nagged at her conscience. Spike coaxed her into showering with him in the makeshift stall he'd set up—as well as indulging in a wet and slippery quickie—then the two of them dressed and went out on patrol. It was a fairly busy night; they dusted about a dozen fledgelings in all. Spike then walked Buffy home where they spent a few more minutes kissing on the front porch before finally parting ways. All in all, not a bad night.

Buffy's mood dimmed a little when she found out Willow had gone out with Amy again. Dawn insisted she was okay on her own, but Buffy was worried. This behavior was out of character for Willow. Buffy knew she needed to talk to her friend, but Willow didn't return until early morning and Buffy didn't want to disturb the redhead's sleep. So, she let it go for now.

* * *

Buffy spent the next day much like she had the day before; research at the Magic Box, followed by patrol that night with Spike. Her guilt over the other night prompted her to phone the house every hour to check in with Dawn, at least until the patrol part. It was hard to focus on anything else lately when in the presence of her vampire lover.

Spike grinned as soon as he saw Buffy with her hair styled in the braided pigtails he mentioned liking. She also had on her black turtleneck to cover the hickey from her friends' prying eyes. This time, Spike and the Slayer did their patrol first, then spent the last couple of hours in the vampire's bed.

Spike sprawled lazily in bed as he watched Buffy put her clothes back on. "You can't stay?"

Buffy shook her head, her reluctance obvious. "Willow's been going out with Amy lately. I need to get home so Dawn won't be alone." She finished putting on her sweater, then leaned down to kiss the tired vampire one last time. Spike ran his fingers over one of her braids and gave it a playful tug.

"'Til tomorrow, then," he smiled, eyelids drooping.

"Yeah. Night, Spike." Buffy left the sanctuary of the crypt and returned home.

The house was quiet when she stepped inside, although the lights were on. Buffy frowned. "Hello?"

She thought she heard something upstairs. She climbed the steps, made her way to the doors leading to the bedrooms. "Willow? Dawn?"

There was a sound from Willow's room. She walked in to find the place in disarray, things strewn about, drawers half opened. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she spun around in time to see Amy trying to sneak out. Buffy grabbed her and shoved her against the door. "What's going on?"

Amy cringed. "Uh oh. Busted."

"Where's Willow?"

The woman's eyes darted nervously, bringing to mind the rodent she used to be. "She said—She said I could—Wait!" she cried as Buffy pried a plastic bag from her fingers. It was full of what looked like half-crushed leaves. "It's not what you think it is," Amy blurted anxiously, "It's sage."

Buffy glared at her. "That _is_ what I think it is." She tossed the bag aside, gripped Amy's shoulders. "What's going on? Where's Willow and Dawn?"

"Well...I saw—I saw her, but that was..." Amy blinked, distracted. "I like your coat. When does a Slayer find the time to shop?"

Buffy gritted her teeth in impatience. Amy's jitteriness was getting on her nerves. She tried to get her back on subject. "So they didn't let you in," she accused.

Amy looked away. "Not that they know of."

"What else did you take?"

"Nothing."

Buffy roughly searched through the woman's pockets. She pulled out a handful of items she recognized as ingredients Willow used in her spells.

"Please, I need this stuff!" Amy begged, "Willow wants me to have it. She understands."

"Understands what?" Buffy snapped, "Breaking into someone's house for kitchen spices? No, I don't think so."

Amy glared at her. "You should. She's as bad as I am. Worse. I bet she's at Rack's right now."

Buffy felt a sense of dread begin to take hold. "Rack's?"

"A place. H-He does spells. Heavy stuff," Amy explained. "Willow's his new favorite," she added bitterly.

"She's there? With _Dawn?_" Buffy shoved the other woman against the door, her anxiety growing.

Amy groaned, "Oh, don't shake me again. Super strength. I think I'm gonna boot."

"Then tell me where this place is and I won't."

"It's downtown, but it moves. I-I'm not sure where it would be tonight, exactly."

Buffy shook her again. "Tell me how to find it!"

"You just kinda have to feel it out!" Amy's complexion took on a greenish cast. "Oh, god, I think I'm gonna— Oh, god..." She put a hand over her mouth and made a mad dash for the bathroom. Buffy turned away in disgust and hurried out the door. Her instincts screamed at her that something bad was going to happen. She needed to find Willow and Dawn.

* * *

Spike's dream about an earthquake morphed into a pair of hands shaking him by the shoulders. He blinked away the last dregs of sleep and gazed up at Buffy's worried face.

"God, do you sleep through anything?" she exclaimed, "I was, like, yelling, and nothing."

Spike groaned and sat up. "I'm a bit knackered. Had a long night." He grinned suggestively. The bedsheets pooled around his hips, low enough to show that he was still naked. Had Buffy been in a less agitated state of mind, she would have found the sight drool-worthy.

She grabbed his jeans from the floor and handed them to him. "Get dressed. Dawn's missing."

The vampire rolled his eyes. "Again? Ever think about a LoJack for the girl? What's the story?"

Buffy nervously shifted from one foot to the other. "She went out with Willow."

Spike chuckled, "Willow? That's kind of a sorry excuse to come by. You want the touch, all you need to do is—"

"Spike," Buffy interrupted, "Willow's into something, okay? Her and Dawn have been missing for hours. There's some guy named Rack."

"Rack?" Spike visibly tensed at the name.

"Yeah, he's, uh, some kind of—"

"I know who he is. He deals in magic. Black stuff. Dangerous."

Buffy wasn't happy to hear that her worries weren't for nothing. "I've been all over downtown and I can't find his place."

"Because he cloaks it," Spike said, "You can't feel it unless you're into the big bad. A witch or a vampire."

"So, let's go."

Spike threw on his clothes while Buffy fidgeted. The second his bootlaces were tied, they left the crypt and headed downtown. They wandered the nearly deserted streets, Spike straining his senses for any hint of Rack's hidden lair.

"Anything?" Buffy asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Not yet," Spike replied, a slight edge to his voice, "I might pick up on it if you'd stop asking me every two seconds."

Buffy chewed her lip. "I knew Willow was acting strange. She hasn't been the same since Tara left. If anything happens to her or Dawn—"

"Let's focus on finding them first." Spike reached down and took her hand in his. "They're probably fine, luv."

"I should've been there for Willow," Buffy berated herself. She squeezed Spike's hand, taking a small measure of comfort in the vampire's presence.

"You're not responsible for her choices, luv," Spike gently chided.

"But I am responsible for Dawn," Buffy sighed under the familiar weight of guilt.

They were passing an empty parking garage when they heard Dawn's screams. Buffy rushed ahead, Spike close behind her. She saw her sister being attacked by some kind of mangy ape-like demon. Buffy tackled the creature, knocking them both to the ground. They rolled on the concrete, then leapt to their feet and began exchanging blows. Spike, meanwhile, went to check on Dawn. He knew Buffy could handle this demon on her own.

The creature suddenly stopped and began to shake.

"_Now_ you're scared?" Buffy remarked, "Better late than never."

The demon let out a prolonged croak and smoke began to pour from its skin. Within moments it seemed to burn from the inside until it was nothing but a pile of dying embers. Willow limped into view, power crackling from her hands and obsidian-black eyes. Blood seeped from a cut at her hairline.

Buffy stared at her in cold anger, then Dawn's whimpers caught her attention and she hurried to her sister's side. Spike was trying to coax the teen into letting him look at her arm. She was cradling it to her chest.

"Dawn, are you okay?" Buffy knelt beside her.

Dawn sobbed, "H-He was after Willow. She made the car drive. Don't!" She flinched away from Buffy's touch.

"Honey, let me look at it," Buffy tried to sound soothing.

"Think it's broken," Spike told her, his voice low.

"Dawnie?" Willow staggered towards them. "Oh, god. There's blood."

Buffy ignored the redhead and said to Spike, "We need to get her to a doctor." She and the vampire helped Dawn stand and supported them between her as they started to walk away.

Willow stumbled after them. "Is she okay? Is she okay?" Her voice was frantic.

"Back off, Will. I got her." Buffy didn't even try to hide her anger.

Willow reached out to them. "Dawnie..."

"I mean it. Stay away from her."

Willow maneuvered herself in their path, bringing the trio to a halt. "Dawnie! Dawnie, I am so sorry!" she pleaded, "It was an accident. I didn't see. I'm so, so sorry."

Dawn glowered at the older woman, then lashed out with her uninjured hand, palm connecting with Willow's face in a resounding slap. Neither Buffy nor Spike said a word. They continued walking, leaving a distraught Willow behind them.

"Dawnie. Dawnie. Don't!" she cried, "Dawnie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." She fell to the ground in a broken, pathetic heap, weeping uncontrollably. "I'm sorry!"

Buffy hesitated in spite of herself and looked to Spike. He nodded to her unspoken request and continued on with Dawn while Buffy returned to stand in front of Willow. "Get up," she said coldly.

"I screwed it up. Everything...Tara..."

Buffy grabbed the distraught witch and hauled her to her feet. "Yeah, you know what? You did screw up, okay? You could have killed her! You almost did!"

"I know. I know," Willow sobbed, "I can't stop, Buffy. I've tried, and I can't."

"You can."

"I can't! I can't. I just... God! I need help! Please, please help me." Willow fell against her, clutching at her in desperation.

Buffy swallowed, her anger warring with her guilt, until she finally allowed her arms to circle her broken friend.

* * *

Dawn had a fractured arm and a mild concussion. But worse than that, she suffered a complete loss of faith in Willow and Buffy. Willow for putting her in danger, and Buffy for not preventing it.

"I can't blame her," Buffy told Spike later in her room. Willow and Dawn had fallen asleep a few minutes ago and Buffy had gone into her bedroom to find Spike waiting by her open window. She'd immediately stepped into the comfort of his waiting arms, her face buried in his chest while his chin rested atop her head. "I knew Willow was getting way too obsessed with magic. I should've seen this coming."

"Willow's a grown woman," Spike argued quietly, "You can't keep shouldering responsibility for what your friends do."

"She is my friend. My _best _friend. I should've been there for her and I wasn't." She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. "She needs me more than ever now. I can't turn away from her. And I can't..." her voice cracked, she swallowed, "I can't leave her alone while she's struggling with this." Which meant no more nights spent in his crypt for a while.

There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he nodded in understanding. "I'll do patrol the next few nights."

"Thank you." Buffy blinked back her tears. "I don't know if I can handle this alone."

"You don't have to. I'm here for you."

"I know." Buffy lay her head against his chest again, taking solace in her lover's embrace.


	11. Chapter 11: Gone

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Life kept rolling her over_

_like a piece of driftwood_

_in the surf of an angry sea_

_she was intelligent and beau-_

_tiful and well-off she made_

_friends easily yet she wasn't_

_able to put the pieces to-_

_gether into any recognizable_

_shape she wasn't sure who_

_she wanted to be so she_

_ended up being no one in par-_

_ticular she made herself al-_

_most invisible she was the_

_person you loved so much who_

_really wasn't there at all._

-_The Invisible Person_, by James Laughlin

Buffy had no idea how much magical or potentially magical stuff they had until they started clearing it all out of the house. Candles, herbs, charms, books, statues, chicken feet, all swept into boxes to be taken away to the Magic Box for storage or disposal. Willow watched it all while miserably sitting on her bed. She couldn't participate in the cleanup; the temptation to hide something for herself would've been too great. Dawn was limited by what she could do as well, since her left arm was in a sling. Plus, she wasn't all that happy with the removal of some of her favorite knickknacks, such as the Kokopelli statue.

"Why do we have to get rid of so many things I like?" the girl whined.

Buffy tried to be patient. Her sister had been through a lot, after all. "Dawn, I explained this to you. Willow has a problem. The next few weeks are gonna be crazy hard on her as it is." She began rummaging between the couch cushions, just in case Willow had a stash squirreled away. "Any reminder of what it is that she's trying to stay away from, y'know, could cause her to give in to temptation."

Her fingers came in contact with cool metal and she pulled out Spike's Zippo lighter. Must've fallen out of his pocket the last time he visited. Buffy smiled sadly as she turned the lighter in her hand, watching the light reflect off it. She and Spike hadn't seen as much of each other as they would have liked the last few days. Helping Willow through the worst of her magic withdrawals took up almost all of Buffy's waking hours, leaving the job of patrolling solely to the vampire. Buffy missed him. They'd only just become lovers, still drunk on the newness of it, which made this forced separation all the more painful for both of them.

Buffy slipped the lighter into her pocket and continued searching the couch for illicit magics.

The mood in the house was no better the next morning.

"Dawn, c'mon, you gotta eat breakfast! Xander's gonna be here any second." Buffy sighed as she returned to the kitchen. "She's gonna be late for school again," she muttered.

Willow was at the stove, still in her pajamas. She was adding some cubed ham to the eggs sizzling in the frying pan.

"How're you doing?" Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged, mustered a faint smile. "I'm okay. Not 'ready to head back to classes, face the world' okay, but the shakiness is only semi, now. I thought I'd spend the day fishing the 'Net for more poop on the stolen diamond." They still hadn't figured out what might've frozen the security guard alive and taken the gem. Buffy was starting to lose hope that they'd ever solve this mystery.

Dawn walked into the kitchen, arm once again in its sling.

"I called you before," Buffy said.

The teen shrugged. "Didn't hear you." She poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"Hey, Dawnie," Willow greeted her brightly, "I'm making you a nice omelet."

"Not hungry."

"Dawn, you need to eat something," Buffy admonished.

Her sister gave her a blank stare. "Thanks for your concern." She set her glass down with unnecessary force and left to fetch her books.

Willow stared after the girl, incredulous. "Okay, I deserve the wrath of Dawn, but why is she taking it out on you?"

"Because I let it happen," Buffy answered sadly.

"But I was the one who—"

"Who was drowning," Buffy interjected, "My best friend. And I was too wrapped up in my own dumb life to even notice."

The backdoor suddenly burst open and a hunched figure rushed inside in a cloud of smoke. He slammed the door shut, flung off the smoldering blanket that covered him, revealing himself as none other than Spike. The vampire straightened his rumpled clothes and said as casually as he could, "Morning."

Buffy stifled a laugh at his attempt to downplay his unexpected arrival. "What are you doing here?"

"Just, uh, took a stroll," he shrugged, no big, "Found myself in your neck of the woods."

Her amusement was getting harder to hold back. "Couldn't find a less flammable time of day to take a stroll?"

"Yeah, well, fact is, my lighter's gone missing. Thought it might've dropped out of my pocket last time I was here."

Buffy feigned ignorance. "Haven't seen it."

Willow, feeling like a third wheel in this conversation, set aside the unfinished omelet and turned off the stove. "I'm gonna head back to my room. Just...get dressed."

"Okay." Buffy waited until her friend disappeared upstairs, then turned to the vampire with a sardonic grin. "Lame."

"What?" he responded innocently.

"You. Making up excuses."

Spike smirked, "Don't flatter yourself, luv. Bloody fond of that lighter."

Buffy's expression softened. "I missed hearing you call me that."

"What? Luv?" Spike moved closer to her, lightly penned her against the sink with his arms to either side of her.

"Yeah. Been calling me that a lot since I came back."

Spike grinned and leaned closer to her, "So, um, what else should I call you, then? Pet? Sweetheart?" He reached up with one hand and slid his fingers through her long tresses. "My little Goldilocks?"

Buffy sighed and relaxed into his touch. The tension that had knotted her shoulders for the past few days eased a little.

"You know, I love this hair," Spike murmured, "The way it bounces around when— What?"

Buffy's expression turned slightly anxious. "I, um, was gonna get it cut today. Called the hairdresser's this morning." She lowered her head. "Wanted to simplify things a little, y'know? Since everything else in my life's so complicated right now."

Spike tilted his head in curiosity. "How short?"

Buffy shrugged. "I was thinking maybe above my shoulders." She indicated the length with her hand.

A slow smile widened across his angular face. "Got me intrigued to see it. And it'll still be long enough to run my fingers through." He proceeded to demonstrate with both hands cradling her head. Buffy's hands rested on his chest as he began to lean in for a kiss.

"Good Godfrey Cambridge, Spike!"

The couple leapt apart at the newly arrived Xander's bellow. Buffy stared at her friend with wide eyes while Spike glared at the interruption.

"You still trying to mack on Buffy?" Xander scoffed, oblivious, "Wake up, already. Never gonna happen. Only a complete loser would ever hook up with you."

Buffy felt Spike's amused sidelong glance at her and struggled to hide her annoyance.

"Well, unless she's a simpleton like Harmony," Xander amended, digging himself a deeper hole without even realizing it, "or a nut sack like Drusilla."

"Hey!" Buffy snapped, then quickly forced a cheerier expression on her face, "You really need to get Dawn off to school. Let's, uh, go fetch her, okay?" She all but shoved her slightly puzzled friend out ahead of her as they exited the kitchen, leaving a chuckling Spike in their wake.

Dawn's attitude hadn't improved in the last few minutes. She gave terse answers to all of Buffy's patient reminders, clearly not listening to any of them. Buffy was really tempted to smack the girl. "And after school you—"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go, Xander." Dawn reached for the door, only to find the way blocked by her older sister.

"You will come straight home," Buffy stated firmly.

"Sure," Dawn replied dully, "Maybe we can find some time to get me into another car accident."

She said this just as Buffy opened the door to reveal a nondescript, middle-aged woman standing on the front step with a clipboard in hand. She smiled at the teen. "Oh, good morning! You must be Dawn."

"May I help you?" Buffy interjected.

"I'm Doris Kroeger from Social Services," the woman indicated the badge clipped to her cardigan, "We had an appointment."

"Oh, right! For Wednesday."

"This _is_ Wednesday."

Buffy threw a querying look at Xander, who nodded.

"Right," Buffy smiled in embarrassment, "Well, Dawn, you better—" The girl rushed out the door before she could finish. "And-And, Xander, you'll drive safely."

"Yes, ma'am." Xander gave her a sympathetic look before following Dawn out to his car.

Buffy stepped aside to let Doris into the house before shutting the door behind them.

"A little bit on the tardy side, isn't she?" the woman remarked.

"Yeah, well, it's been one of those mornings, y'know? Come on in." She led Doris into the living room, all to aware of the half-packed boxes cluttering the area. "Sorry about the mess. We're doing a little housecleaning." She halted in surprise at seeing Spike lounging in one of the chairs. She'd forgotten about the vampire in all the kerfuffle. "Spike! Uh...Now's really not a good time. I, um, have company."

Spike shrugged carelessly. "No worries. I'll wait."

Doris raised an eyebrow at the sight of the leather-clad peroxide blonde; clearly not the sort of man one would expect to see in a good family home. "Um, Miss Summers, if you and your boyfriend would like to—"

"He's not—ahem—not...not my boyfriend," Buffy grimaced in apology, hoping the vampire would understand, "He's, um, just, uh... Spike, this nice woman is from Social Services."

Spike's earlier confusion vanished as comprehension dawned. "Oh, right." He got to his feet and addressed the middle-aged woman, "Uh, hey, Buffy's a great mum. She takes good care of her little sis. Like, um, when Dawn was hanging out too much in my crypt, Buffy put a right stop to it."

Buffy stifled a groan. _Spike, please don't try to help!_

Doris frowned in puzzlement. "I'm sorry, did you say—"

"Crib! Crib," Buffy forced a desperate laugh, "He said crib. You know kids today and their buggin' street slang." She turned to the vampire, "Uh, Spike, didn't you have to go now, y'know. Because of that _thing?_"

Thankfully, he took the hint. "Uh, thing, yeah. Uh, my blanket?" He looked around. Buffy grabbed the singed blanket from where it was draped over the couch and handed it to him. Spike hugged it to his chest as he walked into the kitchen, obviously intending to use the backdoor again.

"He sleeps here?" Doris asked.

"What? No! No. Oh, th-th-the blanket! That's, um... It's a security thing, yeah. He...has issues. Nope, just me and Dawn living here." Buffy smiled brightly.

Willow's voice drifted down from the second floor, "Buffy, I'm not feeling hot, so I'm gonna take a quick nap, okay?"

Buffy winced. "O-Okay, Will!" She smiled weakly at the Social Services woman. "That's Willow. She, uh, she kind of lives here, too, actually."

"Oh, so you live with another woman?"

"Oh! Oh, i-it's not a gay thing, y'know," she blathered in growing panic, "I mean, well, _she's_ gay, but we don't...gay. Not that there's anything wrong with—" she cut herself off with a squeak when Doris reached into one of the packing boxes and pulled out a plastic bag of dried herbs. "Oh, you know, I know what that looks like, but I-I-I swear it's not what it looks like. It's magic weed." _Oh, god._ Her curse of blurting out the wrong thing when things got tense just struck again. She snatched the bag from the suspicious woman and tossed it aside. "It's not mine."

Doris made that _hmm_ sound which all those she evaluated dreaded to hear. "I think I've seen enough."

"No, a-actually, I really don't think that you have! It's just...i-it's been kind of...kind of a bad time," Buffy protested feebly.

"It's been a bad time now for a while, hasn't it, Miss Summers?" Doris noted as she consulted her clipboard, "Your sister's grades have fallen sharply in the last year, due in large part to her frequent absences and lateness."

"But...there are good reasons." Which Buffy couldn't give without winding up in a straightjacket.

"I'm sure there are," Doris soothed, condescending, "But my interest is in Dawn's welfare and the stability of her home life. Something I'm just not convinced that an unemployed young woman like yourself can provide."

"I can! I-I do!"

The woman smiled thinly. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we? Oh, and I'm going to recommend immediate probation in my report," she added while heading for the door.

Buffy trailed anxiously behind her. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I'll be monitoring you very closely, Miss Summers. And if I don't see that things are improving, I'll be forced to recommend that you be stripped of your sister's guardianship."

A block of ice seemed to form in Buffy's stomach at those words. "You can't do that."

"I do what is in Dawn's best interest," the woman declared with conviction, "as should you. Have a nice day."

As soon as Doris left, Buffy leaned her forehead against the door and struggled against the urge to curl up on the floor and cry.

"Didn't go well, huh?"

She turned to see Spike standing in the kitchen doorway, a sympathetic look on his face. He'd obviously stuck around and heard the whole, pathetic conversation. If it had been anyone else, Buffy would've kept all her turmoil locked inside. But Spike was her haven. She ran to him and flung herself into his waiting arms, shoulders trembling as she began to sob into his chest. Spike gently soothed her, his hands rubbing her back. "It'll be alright, luv."

"Sh-She's gonna take Dawn away!"

"No, she won't," Spike responded firmly, "Bint just caught you off-guard at a bad time. You and the Little Bit'll get through this, just like you always do." He kissed her forehead, then her lips, soft and loving.

Buffy sighed when the kiss ended. "I should cancel my appointment at the hairdresser's," she muttered, "Shouldn't be spending money we can't really afford on something as stupid as a haircut."

Spike shook his head in disagreement. "You should go. After the day you've had, you deserve to treat yourself. Besides," he grinned, "I'm curious to see how you'll look with short hair."

Buffy managed a weak smile. "Okay."

"Okay," Spike echoed, then kissed her again. His hand traveled from her waist down to her hip, reached into her pocket and pulled out his missing lighter. He held it up and quirked an eyebrow. Buffy's smile became contrite. Busted. "I was gonna get it back to you."

"Uh huh," the vampire chuckled, "Now who's making lame excuses?" With a final peck to her lips, he turned to leave. "See you around, Goldilocks."

"Bye." Buffy hugged herself, no longer feeling quite as hopeless about the crappy turn her life had taken.

* * *

The visit to the hairdresser had done her some good, after all. Her new haircut was both cute and stylish, and it hadn't even cost that much. She stepped out of the shop feeling like a new woman. She couldn't wait to show it off to Spike. She knew he'd love it.

It was hard to describe what happened next. There was a weird noise and some kind of ray lashed out, striking Buffy and a number of items along the street; fire hydrant, tree, dumpster. Buffy stumbled from the unexpected impact and dropped to her hands and knees. She stared down at the pavement, knowing something wasn't right, but unable to pinpoint what. Then it came to her; she couldn't see her hands. They should have been right in front of her. She felt them, felt the rough concrete under her palms, but she didn't _see_ them! Buffy sat back on her knees and looked down at herself, only to discover the rest of her was AWOL as well. "Holy crap, I'm invisible!"

After the initial shock wore off, Buffy began to feel a weird sense of freedom. If no one saw her, they didn't put their expectations on her. She could do whatever she wanted like this. She was free! Okay, so she obviously couldn't stay this way forever. But what was wrong with enjoying this while it lasted? Sort of a little vacation from herself.

She didn't blow off her responsibilities right away, though. She stopped by the Magic Box to let Xander and Anya know about her interesting new condition. She told them what happened, all the while moving objects around, pretending to animate a skull and whatnot.

"Buffy, could you focus, please?" Xander griped.

"I am," she insisted, "It's just...this is kinda fun!"

"It would help if we had a little bit more to go on," Anya said, "Or _anything_ to go on."

"Well, I could go check the spot where Buffy disappeared. Y'know, snoop for clues," Xander suggested.

Buffy was getting restless. There had to be something worthwhile she could do with her invisibility. Her friends could handle the investigating. For once, she was going to be selfish. "Yeah. Right. Uh, hey, you know what? I'm just gonna go for a walk," she said, heading for the door.

Xander looked incredulous. "A walk?"

"Yeah, y'know, clear my head. You guys keep working on the 'whats' and the 'hows.'" The bell overhead jingled as she exited the shop. "'Clear my head,'" she giggled at the unintentional pun.

She played a few pranks as she strolled through town. Scared a young woman when she snatched the studded cap off her head and waved it around. "I am the Ghost of Fashion Victims Past. Studded caps? Not a good idea. Hey, I'm doing you a favor!" she called after the running girl.

Buffy then noticed a parking enforcement officer writing someone a ticket and, in an uncharacteristic act of recklessness, stole his three-wheeler. "So long, copper!"

She drove the stolen vehicle downtown, no particular destination in mind, until she noticed a government building with the words SOCIAL SERVICES emblazoned over the door. It was too good to pass up. She parked the vehicle, went inside, and found Doris Kroeger at one of the desks, typing away on her computer. It was easy to mess with the woman's head. Move a few things around, whisper some craziness into her ear, and Doris soon went running to the ladies room to try and pull herself together. While she was gone, Buffy found Dawn's case file and replaced all the documents with page after page of "All work and no play make Doris a dull girl." Once Doris's boss saw that, and heard her ramblings about an evil voice, the woman was kindly asked to take a couple of days off. "We'll put someone else on your cases, and have them redo the Summers interview."

Buffy left whistling a jaunty tune. Yeah, things were definitely looking up. Now, what other mischief could she get into? Hmm...

* * *

Spike lounged in his easy chair, one leg thrown over the arm, watching a B-grade horror movie on TV. The heroine of the piece stumbled onto the first of the gory deaths and let out an unconvincing scream of terror. _"Aah! Oh, my god! The blood! Look at all the blood!"_

Spike's stomach growled. Probably not the reaction they were going for, but y'know...vampire. He got up from his chair and walked over to the fridge. He didn't even bother to heat up the blood, just unscrewed the cap from the jar and brought it to his lips to take a swig. That was when the door to his crypt creaked open. His head jerked around to see who was barging in at this hour, but saw no one. Puzzled, he put the lid back on the jar of blood and set it down atop the fridge, then went to investigate. His instincts told him someone was there, but damned if he could see them.

"Whatever beastie you are, I know you're here," he warned, "And I hurt beasties."

Something brushed against his arm. "Hey, watch it!"

The TV switched itself off. Spike rolled his eyes. "A ghost, is it? Well, go and haunt the living like a good spook."

He heard footsteps, felt someone circling him, trailing their fingers along his back. Suddenly, his arm was grabbed and he was flung back against the nearest wall. His arms were pinned out to his sides, released only for a second as his invisible assailant ripped his shirt open, then restrained him again. Spike's eyes widened as unseen lips began caressing his exposed chest. A familiar scent of arousal reached his nostrils. "Buffy?"

"Hello, lover," Buffy purred, then spun them both around and flung Spike into his chair, almost tipping the thing over in the process. Spike gaped as he saw his belt come undone and his jeans unzipped. Phantom hands reached inside and began to fondle his rapidly hardening member. "Bloody hell..."

"Guess what happened to me today," Buffy laughed.

"You...how..." Coherence was not his strong suit when all the blood was rushing south like it was at that moment.

"No idea. The Scoobies are looking into it," her breath ghosted over his erection, "And I figured, in the meantime, why not have a little fun?"

Spike's eyes rolled back as invisible hands were replaced with an invisible mouth.

It took a few hours, and a lot of toppled furniture, but they eventually made it down to the lower level and into Spike's bed. The initial frenzy had worn off and they were making love at a slower, but no less intense, pace. So lost in each other, they didn't hear Xander's intrusion until he was in the room, gawping at the vampire who seemed to be humping the mattress. "Spike? What're you doing?"

Spike felt Buffy tense beneath him, twisted around to look at Xander over his shoulder. He struggled to come up with a vaguely plausible answer that didn't involve the truth. "What am I— What does it look like I'm doing, you nit? I'm exercising, aren't I?" He demonstrated by doing a couple of pushups on top of Buffy. She barely managed to clamp her hands over her mouth in time to stifle her surprised "oop!" Spike grinned evilly, feeling her body shake with suppressed mirth. Oh, he was gonna pay for that!

Schooling his features, Spike got up and scooted to the end of the bed, facing Xander. He draped the bed's topsheet over his lower half to preserve what little modesty remained to him.

Xander stared at the vampire in complete bafflement. "Exercising...naked...in bed."

"A man shouldn't use immortality as an excuse to let himself go," Spike declared primly, "Gotta keep fit for killing."

"Yeah-huh. Looks like you had a little trouble upstairs. A mini disaster area."

Spike raised his shoulders in a negligent shrug. "So, what, you just come here to criticize my housekeeping?"

"Uh, no, I'm looking for Buffy."

"Haven't seen her," Spike's truthful response came out a little too quickly. Fortunately, Xander mistook it for embarrassment over his walking in on the vamp's "alone time."

"Well, you wouldn't. Fact is, she's come down with a slight case of invisibility."

Spike tried his best to look surprised. "Yeah? Huh! How, did uh..." He tensed as Buffy chose that moment to take her revenge on him. She began sucking on his earlobe while her hands toyed with his nipples.

Xander, unaware of the naughtiness taking place right in front of him, said, "We don't know yet. Anyway, she's not at the house, and I really, _really_ need to find her."

"Uh...Tell you what," Spike tried to subtly push the distracting vixen away; it looked like he was swatting at a mosquito, "I'll take a peek around first chance I get, and if we bump into each other, I'll clue her that you're on the lookout."

"After your...exercises." Xander's expression was caught somewhere between disgust and pity.

"Yeah, right." Spike twisted away from Buffy's unseen fingers tickling his ribs.

Xander shook his head in dismay and made for the exit. "You know, kidding aside, Spike...you really should get a girlfriend.

As soon as he was gone, Buffy fell back in a fit of giggles.

Spike gave a fondly exasperated look to the dent in the mattress where she lay. "That was bloody stupid."

"Oh, what? You ashamed to be seen with me?" she teased.

Spike crawled back up the bed until he settled on top of her familiar soft curves. His hand traced the features of a face he couldn't see. "Should probably go catch up with Harris," he murmured without much conviction, "Sounded like he had something urgent to tell you."

"He probably just found a way to 're-visible' me," Buffy countered, "It can wait a few more hours."

"We don't know what this is doing to you, luv. Whatever this spell or curse is, it might be harming you."

"Why're you so eager to get rid of me all of a sudden?" Spike heard the pout in her voice.

He brought his other hand up to cup the other side of her face. His thumbs stroked her invisible cheeks. "I don't want rid of you, Buffy," he said gently, "I want _all_ of you. This was fun, yeah, especially after our week-long dry spell. But I'm still missin' you. You're here, but you're _not_ here. This isn't enough for me."

Buffy sighed. Her fingers traced the vampire's angular features. The fact that she didn't see her own hands somehow made the experience less real. It wasn't enough for her, either, now that the novelty had worn off. "Okay. I'll go. Besides, you still haven't seen me with the new haircut."

Spike smiled, then closed his eyes and kissed her.

* * *

Buffy's day went downhill after that. Dawn freaked when she found out about her invisibility. The teen fled to her room, yelling, "I can't talk to you like this! I can't see you! How can I talk to you if I can't see you?"

Then came the message from Xander on the answering machine, telling Buffy that if she didn't find a way to fix herself soon, she would die. "Wow," Buffy muttered, feeling a telltale prickle of fear for the first time since this happened.

Not long after that, just when she was about to go out and look for Xander, the phone rang. The caller, who had a familiar voice Buffy couldn't quite place, told her they had Willow hostage and she was to meet them at the video arcade, alone. It turned out to be the stalkers from the mystery van who'd been committing all the lame pranks against her. There were three of them. They'd built some kind of invisibility raygun—which they'd used on themselves before coming to the arcade—using the stolen diamond, and they said they wanted to cure her. But it seemed the leader of this so-called Trio proved less than trustworthy. Luckily, Willow noticed that the gun was on the wrong setting. Buffy easily bested them in the ensuing fight. She had some experience combating invisible enemies, and these guys clearly had zero training. When Willow got hold of the raygun and made everyone visible again, Buffy was shocked to discover her "arch nemeses" were none other than Warren, Jonathan, and a guy named Andrew. It was so anti-climactic it was almost sad. And they still managed to get away, though without their precious Invisibility Ray.

The diamond was anonymously returned to the museum, and the gun itself destroyed. Buffy would deal with the annoying Trio at some point, but for now it was time for her to get on with putting her life back together. Willow still needed help with her addiction, Dawn still needed reassurance and stability, and Social Services still needed to be appeased. But on the plus side, Buffy was able to resume patrolling the next night.

Spike met her outside his crypt with a broad smile. "Look at you."

Buffy tossed her head, displaying her shortened hair. "Like what you see?"

His arms slid around her waist, pulling her close. "Definitely."


	12. Chapter 12: Doublemeat Palace

**A/N:** Here's another fun chapter. Thanks for all the reviews!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I heard men saying, Leave hope and praying,_

_All days shall be as all have been;_

_To-day and to-morrow bring fear and sorrow,_

_The never-ending toil between._

-_The Voice of Toil_, by William Morris

Spike was rather pissed off to learn that the newest "big bads" were none other than Warren and his two friends. Damn it, he'd been _right there_ in that bloody basement lair they kept. If he'd bothered to pay any attention, he might've noticed the stolen diamond, or even the black van parked outside, and saved Buffy a lot of hassle.

He told Buffy about the visit he paid Warren to get his chip examined when he discovered he could hit Buffy without repercussions—well, aside from her hitting back, of course. It warmed his unbeating heart to hear Buffy's concern that the sociopathic tech geek knew about the chip, but Spike assured her the pillock had no idea what the chip even did.

"I just wish I could've gotten those idiots," Buffy groused, "By the time I got to their stupid lair, they'd already cleared out. Left a bunch of magical crap behind, books and charmed objects, stuff like that. Willow helped me sort through it, but I'm starting to think that was a mistake. She's been real twitchy lately."

They were walking together through one of the town's numerous cemeteries, looking for all the world like a couple on a stroll, apart from the fact that it was night. Buffy held Spike's right hand in her left, leaving their dominant hands free in case of attack. So far, it was a fairly quiet patrol. A couple of fledgelings early on, nothing more.

"Well, with any luck those wankers'll be halfway to Mexico by now," Spike muttered, "Won't be bothering you with any more of their idiot schemes."

Buffy seemed less than convinced. Then she brightened, "Oh, I almost forgot! I got a job."

Spike's scarred eyebrow quirked upwards. "What kind of job."

"It's in the, uh, consumer service profession," she answered, evasive.

"That a fancy way of sayin' you're slinging burgers, pet?"

Buffy glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Maybe."

"Buffy..." Spike cringed at the thought of the Slayer slaving away in a minimum wage job. She shouldn't have to demean herself like that.

"I needed to get Social Services off my back!" Buffy cried, defensive, "For some reason they get all huffy about an unemployed college dropout raising her sister alone. Plus, we can start getting money for all those luxuries. Like electricity...and food..."

"There's better jobs out there," Spike argued.

"Which I'm not qualified for. College dropout, remember?" She halted, turned to face him. "Look, as soon as I get into the swing of things I can sign up for the next semester. I'm not planning on spending the rest of my life in the Doublemeat Palace. It's just 'til I get back on my feet." Her expression became slightly pleading. "I really need your support here."

"You have it, you know that." Spike gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't want to see you wear yourself down. You already shoulder too much responsibility."

"I'll be fine!" She resumed walking, tugging the vampire along. "Besides, I think it'll be a nice change of pace. A normal, non-Slayery job in a well-lit place. I can handle that easy!"

* * *

Spike decided to wait until after the dinner rush before stopping by the Doublemeat Palace. The second he opened the door, the smell bludgeoned his heightened senses. The place reeked of stale grease, congealed animal fat, and despair. It made his stomach roil. As if that wasn't bad enough, it felt like the blazing overhead lights were stabbing into his eyes like icepicks. That and those bloody hideous uniforms the staff were forced to wear. God, what a depressing place!

He saw Buffy standing behind the counter talking to an older woman who seemed to have about as much personality as the livestock whose flesh they served up.

"Gina, I'm taking another break. There's no one here," Buffy stated in a bored voice.

"Sure there is," the older woman nodded towards the counter, "Look."

Buffy turned to see Spike staring up at the overhead menu. He looked bizarrely out of place in the bright, garish eatery. Even so, Buffy was glad to see him. She approached the vampire with a smile. "Welcome to the Doublemeat Palace," she said in an overly perky voice.

"What's in the Doublemeat nuggets?" Spike asked, sounding just like a normal bored customer.

"It's probably best if you don't know," Buffy replied, "Any particular reason you decided to drop by, or are you just here to chitchat?"

"Well, you chose to be in the consumer service profession, and I'm a consumer," he leered, "Service me."

Buffy suppressed a laugh. "I'm pretty sure this constitutes harassment, sir. Kindly order something."

"Give a bloke a chance for his eyes to adjust," Spike squinted, "Damn fluorescent lights. They make me look dead."

Buffy rolled her eyes at the lame joke.

"Some demons love 'em," he continued, "The way they vibrate makes their skin twitch." Spike tilted his head. "That the kind of demon you are, luv?"

His half-serious question hit a nerve. It gnawed at her, not knowing what exactly had gone wrong with her resurrection to make Spike's chip no longer recognize her as human. She still had her soul, which was good, but would she always? Was there some terrible Jekyll-and-Hyde monster lying in wait inside her, biding its time? Buffy hated not knowing.

"I'm not a demon," she said, no longer amused, "I don't know why you can hit me, but I'm not a demon."

"Oh, I see," Spike nodded in that astute way of his, "That why you took this job? Prove something to yourself? A normal job for a normal girl. Good way to drive yourself crazy, that is."

"I'll be fine." She sounded less convincing than she had the night before. This first day on the job had already worn away a great deal of her spirit.

Spike put his hands on the counter and leaned towards her, his expression serious. "Buffy...you're not happy here."

Buffy swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. "Please don't make this harder."

"You don't belong here," he insisted quietly, "You're someth— You're better than this."

"I need the money."

"I can get money. Walk with me now, come on."

Buffy sighed, "We've been over this. I can't accept money from you. We both know you wouldn't have gotten it legally."

"As long as nobody gets killed, what does it matter?" Spike argued.

"Because it's wrong." It was the reason she gave the most often for the things she refused, and the reason Spike understood the least. Right and wrong, they were just words to him with little actual meaning. Most times, the only way he could tell the difference was by following her lead.

"You gotta get out of here," Spike pleaded, reaching for her arm when she tried to turn away, "This place'll do stuff to you."

Buffy tugged free of his grip. "I need to help Gary with the fries." She walked away.

"This place'll kill you," Spike called after her, knowing it would do no good.

He left the restaurant at an angry march, taking deep lungfuls of the night air to clear his nostrils of the stench. It was disgusting, seeing his lady stuck in that grease pit alongside high school kids and parolees and losers whose lives were going nowhere. It deeply offended his Victorian sensibilities. What kind of man was he if he couldn't provide the woman he loved with the life she deserved? Never mind that she refused his help, knowing he wasn't willing or able to do it through legitimate means. He couldn't just stand by and watch that hellish place suck the life out of her. He needed to do something.

Spike spent the rest of the night visiting the local demon haunts, spreading the word that he was looking to make a lot of cash quickly, no questions asked. His only stipulation was that it didn't involve killing, either directly or indirectly. Buffy might forgive some of his transgressions, but she wouldn't stand for anything that resulted in or profited from someone's death. Once he got enough money together, he needed to figure out a way to get her to accept it. He'd likely have to deceive her somehow, make her think the money was legit. Spike didn't have any qualms about lying to her. All he cared about was helping Buffy, in whatever way he could.

* * *

In some ways, Buffy's second day on the job was even worse. Since a couple of people failed to show up for work, Manny the Manager informed her she'd be working a double shift. Another eight hours of burger-flipping hell. Her forearms were speckled in tiny burns from the hot grease that inevitably spattered her when she worked the deep fryer and the grill. Plus she damn near lost a hand in the meat grinder when she zoned out for a second. She could feel herself sinking into the depression that seemed to permeate the restaurant. Pretty soon she'd be as much a zombie as poor old Gina.

Buffy lowered the first basket of fries into the fryer, wincing as a spatter of hot oil hit her arm. She was about to lower the second basket when the oil started bubbling on its own.

"It's boiling with nothing in it," Timothy materialized beside her, making her jump in surprise, "Sometimes it does that. They say bugs fall in there."

Buffy's stomach heaved.

"Oh, I'm back," he stated unnecessarily in his dull monotone, "You can go on your break now."

Buffy yanked off the ridiculous hat and headed for the back exit. Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention to the plate glass window where she saw Spike walking past. He paused, met her gaze, then continued on towards the back of the building. Buffy hurried out to meet him.

They didn't say a word when she stepped outside. Buffy immediately threw her arms around Spike's neck and attacked his mouth with hers. Spike responded with equal intensity, knowing this was what she needed. He maneuvered them behind the Doublemeat Palace's dumpster, away from any passing eyes. He pressed Buffy up against the wall and hitched one of her legs over his hip, grinding himself into her center. He felt the heat of her through their clothes, smelled her arousal.

"Need you," she whispered desperately.

Spike let go of her leg and unfastened her uniform pants. He knelt to slide them down her legs and helped her step out of them without even removing her shoes. When he straightened, Buffy fumbled with his jeans until his erection sprang free. Spike grabbed her by the hips and lifted. Buffy's legs wrapped around his waist and her small hand guided him into her.

For a few precious minutes Buffy was able to forget about the crappy turn her life had taken. She didn't see the filthy alley or the dumpster a few feet away, didn't smell the lingering stench of fried meat that clung to her pores. There was only Spike's blue eyes gazing intently into her own. His cool breath against her lips and his hands supporting her bottom as he moved steadily in and out of her. His mouth covered hers when she came with a moan. Her climax triggered his, and it was all Spike could do to keep standing on his now shaky legs.

After, when he helped her get back into her uniform pants, Buffy found it in her to laugh a little.

"Care to share the joke, luv?" Spike asked.

"I was just thinking that you take me to the most glamorous places." She waved a hand at their surroundings.

Spike grinned and took her into his arms. He rested his forehead against hers. "Maybe after patrol tomorrow I can do you one better. Candles, music, food that hasn't been deep fried."

"You're asking me out to dinner?"

"Not 'out' so much," he amended, "I was thinkin' my place. Could pick up a nice meal somewhere, fix the crypt up. That way we won't have to wait long for...dessert." He kissed her.

Buffy hummed in appreciation. "Hmm, sounds nice. Can it be a vegetarian dinner?"

Spike chuckled, "Whatever you want, luv."

Buffy returned to work in a much better mood...until she found the severed finger beside the meat grinder. Manny didn't take too well to one of the staff running around yelling about the burgers being made out of people. Needless to say, she was no longer a Doublemeat employee after that. On her way out, Buffy grabbed one of the Doublemeat Medleys. She called an emergency Scooby meeting at the Magic Box, intending to have Willow examine the burger for traces of human flesh. Unfortunately, Xander ate most of the evidence before Willow arrived. But they still had enough traces on the wrapper for testing.

While her friends took care of the meat analyzing, Buffy decided to return to the Doublemeat Palace to see if she could find any more incriminating evidence. Along the way, she stopped by Restfield Cemetery. She ran into Spike just as he was returning to his crypt from some unknown errand.

"Something bad's going on at the Doublemeat Palace," she told him, "I found a finger by the meat grinder, and people keep disappearing, but nobody thinks anything about it because they think the job's got a high turnover. And I really don't trust that Manny guy. He knows something."

"So...you want me to help you break into the place and snoop around?" the vampire asked.

"Think of it as a preliminary for tomorrow's dinner date," was her cheery response.

Spike rolled his eyes, but smiled in amusement. "Who am I to pass up a romantic night of B and E?"

Security at the Doublemeat Palace wasn't exactly tight. Spike picked the lock in a few seconds and the two of them entered the darkened restaurant. The chairs had been stacked atop the tables and a cart loaded with cleaning supplies was out, but there was no sign of any staff.

"C'mon," Buffy tugged Spike's sleeve, "I wanna check the freezer. Manny was always telling me to stay out of there."

"Lead the way." Spike followed her into the kitchen.

Buffy peered inside the walk-in freezer, but all she saw were boxes of processed chicken and beef waiting to be ground. No human carcasses in garish orange uniforms hanging from hooks. Vaguely disappointed, Buffy shut the freezer and saw Spike over by the meat grinder. He leaned over the grinder's motionless blades and grimaced at the lingering smell that no amount of cleaning could quite get rid of.

"Well, whoever that finger belonged to, the bloke didn't lose it in the machine. I'm not smellin' any human blood on this thing."

"You're not?" Buffy stared at the grinder in incredulity. "B-But the secret ingredient...I was positive they were making people burgers!"

"People burgers?" Spike laughed, "I thought you were talking about murder, not a bloody cannibal conspiracy. Buffy, this isn't _Soylent Green_. There's no human meat in these burgers. Hell, there isn't _any _meat in these burgers."

"What!"

Spike wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yeah. Smells like they're made out of some kind of vegetables with some beef fat mixed in. Disgusting stuff!"

"The secret ingredient in the beef is...beef?"

"'Fraid so, luv."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. "Wow. Don't I feel stupid."

Spike turned his head. A frown appeared on his brow and he sniffed. "Hang on. All this stale grease is affecting my nose. There _is_ human blood here."

"Where?"

Spike headed over to the grill, bent down and picked something up from the floor. He turned and showed it to Buffy. "Know anyone who wears saddle shoes?"

Buffy stared at the severed foot with a mild sense of pity. "Manny. Guess he really was a lifer."

"Something over there," Spike motioned with the same hand that held the foot. Sitting on a counter beside some stacks of plastic cups was what looked like a mound of gray hair. "Scalp?"

Buffy picked it up. "Wig. Wig Lady!"

"Who?"

"Sh-She's a regular," Buffy explained, "Small coffee and cherry pie. What was she doing back here?"

"Oh, dear," an elderly voice drew the couple's attention to the bald figure that had crept up behind them, "'Wig Lady?' Is that what they call me?" The old woman ruefully shook her bulbous head. "I don't care for that. I mean, I have to do _something_ to hide this." Her eyes withdrew from their sockets, the top of her head bulged and stretched upward. Something long and sinuous slowly extended itself from the old woman's head. Her missing eyes glared from the underside of where the creature's chin would be if it had one. It opened its mouth, revealing circular rows of pointed teeth, and let out a piercing shriek.

"Holy crap," Buffy gaped.

"Huh," Spike blinked, "That's different."

The parasite suddenly spat a cloud of something into their faces. Buffy gasped and stumbled. Spike collapsed altogether, his wide eyes the only things moving.

"It's paralyzing," Wig Lady explained, "Works even faster on vampires than on humans. Too bad I'm not fond of the taste of vampire. Undead flesh is so _bland_." She gave a delicate shudder. "Oh, well. He should make a nice palate cleanser once I'm done with you."

Buffy tried to run, but her feet just wouldn't cooperate.

"Don't try to move, dear. You really can't, much." The old woman watched in amusement as Buffy began to stagger away. "The paralysis spreads upward, by the way. You may want to flail your arms a bit while you still can."

Buffy leaned heavily against the front counter and pulled herself along by her arms. Wig Lady followed at a sedate pace, secure in the knowledge that her prey had no hope of escape. "Did I tell you, you're my favorite? Doublemeat workers," she enthused, "You're so full of Doublemeat burgers, and you just slide down so smooth."

Buffy lost her balance and fell to the floor. She crawled towards a rack of shelves containing different kitchen utensils, hoping to find some kind of weapon.

Wig Lady chuckled, "Oh, I just _love_ the paralysis! It means I can eat you slowly."

The screeching parasite lunged towards Buffy. Her clumsy fingers grabbed a metal pan and used it to slap the creature away, giving herself a chance to crawl under the shelves.

"I know you're under there," the old woman sing-songed.

Buffy saw Spike's crumpled form a short distance away. She couldn't tell if he was conscious or not. He wasn't moving at all, not even to breathe, which, thankfully, wasn't necessary for him.

There was a crackle of static and Willow's tinny voice came over the drive-thru speaker, _"Buffy? Are you in there? I can't see you inside. Buffy, if you're in there, the burger isn't people. Th-They aren't even meat. It's all processed vegetables. Isn't that weird?"_

Spike, who'd been futilely trying to fight off the paralysis the whole time, thought sardonically, _Tell us something we don't know, you daft bint! Better yet, get your arse in here and find something to kill this thing with!_

_"B-Buffy, there's more. Something happened today, and i-it wasn't my fault. I-It was Amy's fault, but...but I feel so bad about it. It was Amy's power, but it felt like I was doing everything myself, a-a-and I couldn't stop. And now i-it's gone, and I feel kind of shaky and like I-I need it."_

If Spike could have rolled his eyes in exasperation, he would have. From his periphery, he saw Buffy crawling around under the shelves, trying to find a way to escape or defend herself. Spike tried to shout a warning, but his voice was gone. All he could do was watch as Wig Lady appeared and dragged Buffy out of hiding. The old woman pulled the Slayer to her feet and flung her up against what turned out to be the meat grinder. The sound of the crash was apparently loud enough to be heard outside, because Willow suddenly said, _"Buffy, something fell."_

Buffy's rapidly numbing arm slapped against the grinder's power switch and the machine hummed to life. Spike watched, helpless, as the parasite's maw latched onto Buffy's shoulder. There was the sound of tearing fabric over the hum of the grinder, and Spike smelled the tang of blood. Buffy grimaced in pain, unable to fight off her attacker.

_Brilliant,_ Spike thought bitterly, _the Vampire Slayer and William the Bloody, done in by a giant penis with teeth. There's a hell of an ending._

"Buffy!"

The parasite withdrew and Wig Lady spun to face a horrified Willow. "A visitor! How nice."

The parasite spat a stream of venom towards the redhead. Willow screamed and ducked around the corner. The old woman turned back to Buffy and the parasite resumed gnawing on her shoulder.

Willow reappeared, wielding the circular blade taken from the meat slicer. "Missed me."

The blade arced through the air and cut through the parasite's body, severing it from its host. The old woman groaned drunkenly and toppled to the floor beside the still writhing parasite. Buffy had fallen as well onto some spilled plastic cutlery. Even though she knew it wouldn't do any good, she managed to pick up a plastic knife and jabbed it into the creature. Even though the knife was far too dull to penetrate its hide, the parasite's shrieks became even shriller for a moment.

Willow ran over, picked up the parasite, and shoved it into the meat grinder. She gave a startled scream as the creature's head popped up and shrieked at her. Willow shoved it back down and the parasite finally fell silent as the grinder did its work.

"Buffy, are you alright?" Willow helped her friend to stand.

"Paralyzed," Buffy slurred, "But I think it's wearing off."

The grinder started oozing out the pulverized remains of the creature. Both women stared at the noisome mess with similar expressions of disgust. "Ewww..."

"Little...help here..."

"Spike!" Buffy and Willow hurried to the vampire and helped him sit up. "You okay?" Buffy asked.

Spike grimaced, rubbed his head. "Feels like I skipped the bender and went straight to the hangover."

"Well, at least we know where all the missing workers went," Willow said.

"Yeah," Buffy grimaced at the carnage, "All that's left now is the cleanup."

"Oh boy," Willow muttered.

"Think I've had all the fun a bloke can stand for one night." Spike groaned and got to his feet with help from the women. "I'm gonna pack it in."

"D'you need help getting back to your crypt?" Buffy asked in concern.

He shook his head. "No, luv. I'm fine." He wanted to kiss her, but knew she wasn't ready to do something like that in front of Willow, so he settled for giving her arm a squeeze.

Buffy smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow night, then."

"Yeah." Spike made his unsteady way to the exit, glad to put this whole adventure behind him.

* * *

Buffy didn't know how he did it. The underground level of Spike's crypt was aglow with dozens of candles. A table was set up for two, with a tablecloth and beautiful place settings. There was white wine and delicious food, all without a trace of meat. Soft music played in the background. It was perfect.

After the meal, Spike took Buffy's hand and led her into a slow dance. She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and utterly content.

"Tired?" Spike asked in a low voice.

"No," Buffy sighed, "Just...very relaxed."

"Good." He kissed her hair.

"Very good," she agreed, "'Specially since I start work again tomorrow."

"I still can't believe you," he snorted, "Here you have a secret this multi-million dollar chain would pay a sodding fortune to keep quiet, and all you do is ask for your job back."

"Sure, I could've cashed in. But—"

"It would be wrong," Spike finished with a sardonic chuckle, "One of these days you're gonna explain to me how being right's so much better."

"Soon as I figure it out, I'll let you know." She leaned her head back to look at him, a contented smile on her face. "Thank you for this. Who would've thought William the Bloody had a strong romantic streak?"

"Consider the era I grew up in," he countered, "Back then, gentlemen were expected to treat their ladies like queens when courting."

"Hmm, courting, huh?" She glanced around. "I don't see a chaperone anywhere."

Spike grinned. "Well, the last century's corrupted me."

"Thank god," Buffy laughed as the vampire scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Dessert was every bit as good as promised.


	13. Chapter 13: Dead Things

**A/N:** This is by far one of the more gut-wrenching episodes of the series. Doesn't matter how many times I see it, I always need a tissue by the end. I honestly don't know how well I managed to capture it in this chapter, but I tried my best. Don't worry, next chapter's gonna be way more lighthearted. :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_He who learns must suffer_

_And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget_

_Falls drop by drop upon the heart,_

_And in our own despite, against our will,_

_Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God._

-Aeschylus

Buffy never would have admitted it a year ago, but Faith was right; Slaying always left her hungry and horny. In times past, Buffy only ever indulged in the hunger part, and took plenty of showers with her massaging showerhead to deal with the other. Now, after their nightly patrols, she and Spike would spar for a while, which inevitably segued into sex. And sometimes they skipped the sparring altogether.

She was especially frisky that night, jumping the vampire before they even reached the door to his crypt. They staggered through the door, locked in a frenetic kiss, and grappled their way towards the trap door leading to the lower level, knocking over every piece of furniture they encountered along the way. The underground level didn't fare any better. Clothes were strewn everywhere, chairs and storage chests toppled, a few breakables shattered. They never made it to the bed, settling for the numerous rugs Spike carpeted the floor with. When they were finally spent, they lay under one of the rugs, sweaty and gasping.

"We missed the bed again," Buffy said.

"Lucky for the bed," Spike remarked.

Buffy shakily pushed herself up on her elbows, examined their makeshift blanket in curiosity. "Is this a new rug?"

"Hmm, no," Spike grinned, "Just looks different when you're under it."

Buffy laughed. She took in their comfortable, albeit messy surroundings with an appreciative eye. "Y'know, this place is okay for a hole in the ground. You fixed it up pretty nice."

"Well, I ate a decorator once," the vampire mused, "Maybe something stuck."

"I've been thinking about doing something to my room."

"Yeah?" Spike smiled, enjoying the easy conversation in the afterglow.

"Yeah. I think the New Kids on the Block posters are starting to date me," Buffy grinned as the vampire chuckled.

"Well, if you want, I can give you some pointers."

"That an excuse to try and get in my room?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"Not like I haven't seen it before, luv." _Just not for more than a few minutes_, he didn't say. He didn't want to get into another argument about Buffy keeping their relationship a secret from her friends. She always said she'd tell them at some point "when the time was right." Whatever the hell that meant. Spike was starting to wonder if the time would ever be right. Or would he always be nothing more than her dirty secret?

He ran his fingers over her bare shoulder. "You were amazing."

Buffy grinned and leaned in to rub her nose against his. "You got the job done yourself."

"I was just trying to keep up." His hand trailed lower, beneath the rug's concealment. "The things you do. The way you make it hurt in all the wrong places. I've never been with such an animal."

Buffy tensed the slightest bit, just enough for him to notice. "I'm not an animal," she murmured, thinking of her resurrection, what might've gone wrong.

"You wanna see the bite marks?" he retorted.

She blinked in surprise. "There was biting?"

Spike chuckled. "Only on your part, luv. Though I was certainly tempted."

He never lost control of his demon. No matter how wild their lovemaking was, Spike never shed his human face. Buffy couldn't imagine the amount of self-control that required. Her fingers went to the tender spot on her neck where a hickey had once again formed, right over her bite scars. Trying to mark her as his without _really_ marking her. Buffy wondered why he still held himself back.

"It's late," she said, thinking of her responsibilities once again, "I should get home before Dawn goes to sleep."

Spike lay his head back with a frustrated sigh. "And she's off."

Buffy ignored his acerbic remark. She ducked beneath the rug, searching around. "Have you seen my underwear?"

He turned his head to the side to look at her. "What is this to you? This thing we have?"

Her head peeked back out. "We... Do we have to label it?" It was a weak protest and she knew it.

Spike rolled onto his side, propped himself up on one elbow. "Do you even like me?"

Buffy sat up, a frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. "Spike, you _know_ I love you."

"I know you like what I do to you."

"Well, yeah, but...but we're more than just that." She fidgeted, uncomfortable with the serious turn in the conversation.

Spike reached for something in the surrounding clutter and held up a pair of handcuffs.

_Where'd he get those?_ Buffy wondered.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

Buffy stared at him for a long moment, realizing their relationship hinged on her answer. She took the cuffs from him, fastened them around her wrists. Then she lay back and stretched her restrained arms above her head, leaving herself open and vulnerable. "Always."

* * *

Buffy handed the next customer his order. "Doublemeat is double sweet. Enjoy!" She noticed Gina staring at her. "Just somethin' I'm trying," she defended.

The door opened and a familiar blonde woman hurried in. Buffy smiled in relief.

"Hey," Tara greeted, "Sorry I'm late."

"Oh, time has no meaning here." Buffy removed her hat. "Gina, I'm taking a break."

She took her friend into the employee break room, then went to get her a free soda. She returned with the drink to find Tara staring at the aggressively perky motivational posters that covered pretty much every wall.

"I have this sudden urge to dedicate my productive cooperation." Tara smiled and accepted the soda.

Buffy took a seat across from her. "Well, if you close your eyes and repeatedly smash yourself in the head with frozen meat, it'll go away. Eventually. I'm hoping," she sighed, "Thanks for coming by."

Tara's expression became grave. "Is it bad?"

Buffy shrugged one shoulder. "I was sort of hoping you could tell me."

The gentle witch sighed. "I knew this was gonna happen. What did Willow do now? Did sh-she hurt anyone?"

"What? Uh, no. No." Buffy chastised herself; she should've known Tara would jump to that conclusion. "Um, Tara, this isn't about Willow."

"Oh," Tara blinked, "I thought that's why you didn't wanna meet at the house."

"Uh, sorry. It's, um... Willow's fine. She's been doing really well. You'd be proud of her."

Her friend smiled in obvious relief. "Good. That's...That's good. S-So, what do you wanna talk about?"

Buffy hesitated. "It's Spike. He can hurt me...without his head exploding."

Tara's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, my god. H-His chip stopped working?"

"No, it still works," Buffy hurried to reassure her, "Just not on me. I-I need to know about the spell. The one that brought me back. I'd ask Willow, but..." She shrugged.

"You think it's you." It wasn't a question.

"I dunno. I feel...different," she admitted, "There are things that— I-I think maybe I came back wrong."

"No, Buffy," Tara denied firmly, "That's n-n-not— No! You didn't."

"Can you check out the spell? Just see if there's something that— Could you just check? Please?"

"I-I'll see what I can do," Tara said, "It m-might take a few days."

"Thanks." Buffy felt some of her tension ease. The question of just how different she was now since coming back to life had been hanging over her like a guillotine waiting to drop. It was the not knowing that was keeping her up nights. Even if she did come back _wrong_, if she knew for sure, then she could deal with it. She just had to know.

"So, Spike," Tara hesitated, "You said he can hurt you. Does he?"

The smile that came over Buffy was one Tara couldn't quite interpret. "No. I can handle Spike."

* * *

Buffy decided to skip patrol that night and headed straight home, taking a momentary detour to Restfield to let Spike know. She arrived at the house fully expecting a nice, quiet evening with Dawn. Maybe watch a movie on TV and eat popcorn. But Dawn already had plans for a sleepover at Janice's.

"I didn't think you'd care," the teen said quietly, "You're never home, so..."

"I know," Buffy said with a pang of guilt, getting up from the couch to face the younger girl, "I'm sorry, you know. But I'm here now, all visible and everything. Couldn't you just stay at Janice's another night?"

Dawn gave an apologetic smile. "Her mom's cooking Mexican. She's gonna teach me how to make real tortillas. Not like I knew you'd be around." The resignation in the teen's voice hurt worse than the accusation.

Buffy watched her sister leave, then turned to her awkwardly waiting friends. Suddenly, Xander's offer of a night out at The Bronze sounded pretty good. She went upstairs to change, then she and the others piled into Xander's car and drove out to Sunnydale's main nightspot.

Buffy sat with Willow at a table, enjoying their drinks, while Xander and Anya tore up the dance floor.

"We're not gonna have to do that at the wedding, are we?" Willow watched the couple's antics in horror, "'Cause there's this last thread of dignity I've been desperately clinging to."

Buffy smiled. "You're still doing okay, right?"

"Yeah. Y'know, some days are harder than the really hard days," the reformed witch shrugged, "I-It's easier like this, though. When I'm not alone."

Buffy once again felt a stab of guilt. It was becoming an all too familiar sensation. "I'm sorry I haven't been around that much." It was her own fault. She knew she'd been spending too much time at Spike's crypt, hiding away from the world.

"Oh, no. It's okay," her friend insisted, "We know you've been all tied up."

Buffy tensed, thinking about the handcuffs. "What?"

"With your job and the slaying."

"Oh."

Anya and Xander chose that moment to approach and ask them to join in the dancing. Willow gave in, but Buffy demurred, saying she wanted to get another drink. She took her empty cup to the bar, but ended up drifting towards the stairs leading to the balcony. She climbed up and went to lean on the rail, gazing down at her friends as they danced and laughed. The sight of them made her smile, even as melancholy set in. She didn't really feel like part of the group anymore.

A familiar presence encroached on her Slayer senses. She tensed guiltily, even as her body tingled with anticipation.

"You see," Spike's low voice murmured in her ear, "You try to be with them, but you always end up in the dark...with me."

Buffy involuntarily leaned back into the solid weight of his chest. His hands circled her waist, holding her in place. "What would they think of you if they found out?" he mused, "All the things you've done? If they knew who you really were?" His left hand drifted to her shoulder, slid down her arm, past her thigh. His fingers grasped the hem of her skirt and started sliding it upward.

"Don't," Buffy protested, even as her body relaxed into his touch.

"Stop me."

She didn't. They both knew she wouldn't. The dimness of the balcony, plus the shroud of Spike's duster, concealed their actions from others' view. Buffy heard the faint sound of a zipper, then her underwear was moved aside and his hard, cool length filled her. Buffy's mouth fell open in a silent moan. Her eyes drifted shut.

"No, don't close your eyes," Spike whispered, harsh, seductive, dangerous, "Look at them." He waited until she opened her eyes before he resumed his agonizingly slow thrusts. "That's not your world. You belong in the shadows. With me." His cold breath tickled her ear. "Look at your friends and tell me you don't love getting away with this. Right under their noses."

Buffy watched the others having fun below her, oblivious to her illicit tryst with her vampire lover. Spike was right; part of her—a dark, secret part she seldom acknowledged even existed—did get a thrill from deceiving her closest friends. And it scared her.

* * *

Buffy's turmoil lasted through the next day and into the following night. When she went on patrol, her feet inevitably took her towards Spike's crypt. Her need to see him, be with him, was like an addiction. Her feelings for him were all-consuming, to the point that she thought she might be losing herself, and she wondered if he felt the same way. She hoped he did. Otherwise, this power he had over her just might kill her.

The distant sound of a woman's scream jolted Buffy out of her dark thoughts. She ran towards the sound and came upon a clearing where she saw three demons in hooded capes chasing after a woman. Buffy leapt onto the demons—

—and landed face-down in the suddenly empty clearing. Buffy got to her feet, stared around her in confusion. "Huh?"

She heard sobbing, spun around to see the woman curled up on the ground. Buffy cautiously approached her. "It's okay. I'm gonna get you out of here. Can-Can you walk? Are you hurt?" The woman didn't respond—

—Whispers surrounded Buffy, overlapping, _"Buffy, what did you do? What did you do, Buffy?" _ She turned and turned, but couldn't pinpoint the source. And the woman had disappeared again—

—"Ow!" Spike sprawled at her feet, his bottom lip split and bleeding. "Bloody hell, what'd you do that for?"

"Spike?"—

—They were fighting the hooded demons. Spike, in gameface, took one on while the other two attacked Buffy. Spike broke his opponent's neck, then yelled Buffy's name in warning—

—She stood alone in the clearing. Then Spike approached.

"Spike, what's happening?" her voice quavered.

"Where have you been, Slayer? I was waiting—"

—fighting the demons. Buffy knocked one down, turned and punched the other—

—her fist connected with Spike's jaw and sent him sprawling at her feet. "Ow! Bloody hell, what'd you do that for?" He dabbed at his bloodied lip.

The woman stumbled into view and curled up on the ground, sobbing.

There was a roar. Buffy turned, saw a distortion in the air, then the three hooded demons came rushing towards them. Spike leapt to his feet as the demons attacked. He took one on while the others came after Buffy—

—Buffy's fist connected with air. The clearing was empty—

—a punch struck her in the face—

—she broke a demon's back over her knee—

—she stood, disoriented, as Spike snapped a demon's neck. "Buffy!" he yelled in warning.

One of the demons jumped out at her. She fought it back, felt something grab her shoulder from behind. She turned and lashed out, watched in horror as the woman reeled from the impact and went tumbling down a steep incline, vanishing into the dark. Buffy ran after her, leaving Spike behind to fight the last demon.

Spike punched the creature out, then hurried to follow the Slayer. "Buffy!"

The demon recovered from the blow and jumped him. "Do you mind?" Spike snarled, and drove his fist through the creature's chest. He shoved the corpse off of him and rushed down the incline. He found Buffy on her knees beside the fallen woman's motionless body. The Slayer's eyes were wide and vacant. "She's dead," her voice was eerily calm, "I killed her."

Spike looked around in agitation, his features human once again. "We have to go."

"What happened?" Buffy whispered, her thoughts a swirl of conflicting images.

"There's nothing you can do now. We have to go before someone sees you."

She started to tremble. "What did I do?"

Spike grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to her feet. "We have to go _now_." He half guided, half dragged her away from the tragic scene. Once they'd put some distance between themselves and the body, Spike paused and turned the traumatized blonde to face him. "All right, listen to me, Buffy. Buffy!" He shook her.

"She's dead." The full horror was beginning to sink in. She'd killed a human. An innocent victim.

"It was an accident," Spike reasoned, but he knew she wasn't in any shape to listen. "I'm gonna get you home."

She shook her head. "No."

"I'm gonna get you home," he insisted, "and you're gonna crawl in your warm, comfy bed and stay there. We're gonna sort this out." He gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. "Trust me."

Buffy was too deep in shock to resist as he led her back to her house. He took her up to her bedroom and gently lay her down on the bed. "It's alright, luv," he soothed.

"What'd I do? What'd I do?" she whispered.

Spike ran a comforting hand over her brow. "Shh. Don't worry. It'll be our little secret." He placed a tender kiss on her lips, then left her alone in her darkened room to go take care of the mess they'd left behind.

Spike felt no qualms about disposing of the body. His only concern was protecting Buffy. It was an accident; she shouldn't be punished for that. And even if it had been her fault, Spike would not have done anything different. He loved Buffy. He would do whatever it took to keep her.

Buffy, meanwhile, tossed and turned in her bed, caught in the throes of a nightmare that blended with reality until she couldn't tell one from the other. She was making love to Spike in her bed. She was making love to Spike in his crypt while he wore the handcuffs. She was pinning down the woman in the clearing, putting the handcuffs on her and asking, "Do you trust me?" Spike was making love to her on the floor of his crypt. She was standing over his sleeping form with a stake in her hand. She was driving the stake into the woman's chest...

Buffy woke with a gasp. She sat up, stared at the familiar surroundings of her bedroom, and knew what she had to do.

She went into Dawn's room, sat on the edge of the bed and watched the girl sleep. After a moment, she reached out and gently shook Dawn awake.

"What time is it?" the girl asked blearily.

"It's late. I just wanna..." Buffy hesitated, "I love you. You know that, right?"

Dawn frowned and sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I know I haven't been everything I should be," she confessed, "Everything Mom was. But I love you. I always will."

Her candor was beginning to worry her sister. "Why are you talking like this, Buffy?"

Buffy told her, in as few words as possible, what happened. The death she'd caused. She watched the shock and sympathy move across Dawn's face. Then Buffy told her, "I have to go to the police."

"The police?" the girl exclaimed.

"Dawnie, I have to."

Dawn's expression ranged from hurt to cold anger. "They'll take you away, won't they?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," the girl accused, "You're never here. You can't even stand to be around me."

"That is not true," Buffy denied, hurt by her sister's words.

"You don't wanna be here with me. You didn't wanna come back. I know that." Dawn kicked the blankets away and got out of bed. "You wanna go away again. Then go! You're not really here, anyway." Sobbing, she fled from her bedroom, leaving Buffy sitting on the bed, alone with her guilt.

* * *

The Sunnydale Police Station was in her sight when a voice she'd hoped to avoid came from the alley behind her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"The right thing," she answered without turning. A pair of arms suddenly grabbed her around the waist and dragged her into the alley. Buffy was flung onto the pavement. She rolled onto her knees and regained her feet, found her way blocked by a blonde vampire in a long black duster.

"Sorry, luv. Can't let you do that."

"I have to tell them what happened," Buffy said.

"Nothing happened," Spike stated coldly.

"I killed that girl."

Spike's expression turned sardonic. "Demons in the woods? Time going wonky? They won't believe you."

"I'll show them," she retorted.

"Show them what?" he challenged.

Buffy felt an icy finger of dread. "What did you do?"

"I took care of it," Spike answered levelly.

"What did you do!"

"What I _had_ to," he snapped, "I went back and I took care of it. It doesn't matter now. No one will ever find her."

Behind him, two cops hurried out of the station and headed for one of the parked patrol vehicles.

"Where'd they find her?" one of them asked.

His partner answered, "The river. She washed up half a mile from the cemetery."

Spike gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, _balls_." As the police car sped off, Spike declared, "There still isn't anything to connect this to you."

"It doesn't matter," Buffy said.

"It wasn't your fault," Spike countered.

"I killed her!"

The vampire flung his arms out in frustration. "It was an accident! It just happened!"

"Nothing 'just happens.'" Buffy started towards the station.

Spike moved to block her. "You are not going in there."

She gazed at him, pleading, "I have to do this. Just let me go."

"I can't," his voice held the faintest tremor, "I love you."

Buffy tried to walk around him. He shoved her. She pushed him back, hoping to run past before he recovered. But Spike was faster. He morphed into his vamp-face and grabbed her, threw her back down the alley. "You are_ not_ throwing your life away over this!"

"It's not your choice!" Buffy yelled.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"A girl is _dead_ because of me!"

"And how many people are alive because of you?" he insisted, "How many have you saved? One dead girl doesn't tip the scale."

"Yes it does! It doesn't matter how many people I've saved," Buffy cried, "It isn't about numbers, Spike! You—You can't understand why this is killing me, can you?"

"Why don't you explain it?"

"I can't!" Tears of guilt, pain, and fear cascaded down her cheeks. "It doesn't matter what I say, I can't make you understand because you aren't _capable_ of understanding. It's not your fault. It's just what you are." Her petite frame was wracked with sobs. "I can't live with it. I can't live with this guilt, Spike. It's eating me alive!"

Even through his predatory features, the vampire's pain was easy to see. "I can't let you go."

Buffy tried to dodge past him, but he reacted too fast, blocked her path. In desperation, her fist lashed out at his jaw. Spike reeled from the blow, but held his ground. Buffy hit him again.

"That's it," the vampire urged, "Put it on me. Put it all on me."

"Don't make me do this," she begged, even as her fists connected with him again, and again, trying to get him to _just move!_ Blood roared in her ears and her vision became a red haze. The next thing she became aware of, she was straddling Spike's prostrate form, smashing her fists into his face with everything she had. He'd shed his gameface at some point and now his human features were becoming distorted by the abuse they received. Buffy froze, stared in horror at what she'd done to him.

Spike gazed up at her with one eye, the other swollen shut. "You always...hurt the one you love, babe," his voice slurred.

Buffy lurched to her feet and stumbled towards the police station. Spike called after her, but she ignored him. She was a monster. She had to be punished. She walked into the station's crowded lobby and made her way to the front desk. The uniformed officer manning the desk seemed to have the phone fused to his ear.

"Excuse me," Buffy stammered, "I-I need—"

The cop held up a hand. "I'll be with you in a sec," he answered another call, "Sunnydale PD. Yeah, the phone's ringing off the hook here. Listen, you got an I.D. on that body, yet?" He grabbed a pen and started writing, "Katrina...Silber."

Buffy tensed. She knew that name from somewhere. Then she remembered; the robot girlfriend, the tech geek, and the flesh-and-blood girlfriend who nearly got throttled to death by a jealous machine.

"Warren," Buffy whispered. It couldn't be a coincidence. Warren's ex-girlfriend winds up dead mere weeks after she finds out he's declared himself her archenemy? Those demons, that weird time distortion, the woman turning up from nowhere at just the right instant. And when Buffy tried to find a pulse, the woman's skin had been cold. Buffy hadn't given it any thought then, too caught up in her own horrified shock. But the body was cold.

_It wasn't me. It was him._

"Oh, god..." Buffy hurried out of the police station and ran back to the alley where she'd left Spike. He was still there, on his knees, his spine bowed and head hung low. When Buffy approached, he raised his head and she saw moisture gleaming on his cheeks. Not all of it was blood.

Buffy dropped to her knees in front of him and gathered him into her arms. "I'm sorry," she choked, "I'm so sorry..."

The weeping couple rocked back and forth, holding each other in the dark.

* * *

"Is this what you saw?" Anya held a book out to Buffy. It was open on a page showing an illustration that she recognized.

"Yeah, that's it."

Buffy had taken Spike back to his crypt, tended his wounds while she told him about finding out that the dead woman was Warren's ex. Spike's relief was obvious, but Buffy needed to know for sure that her suspicions were right. So, the next morning, she went straight to the Magic Box. She told her friends an edited version of what happened and they got to work on the research.

"The Rwasundi," Anya declared, reading over the text, "Very rare. Its presence in our dimension causes a sort of...localized temporal disturbance. Being exposed to the Rwasundi for more than a few seconds can cause vivid hallucinations and a slight tingly scalp."

"So, that's it," Willow said, relieved, "These things just made you _think_ you killed her."

"She was probably dead long before you stumbled across her," Xander speculated.

"It wasn't the demons," Buffy stated quietly, "It was Warren. He knew Katrina. He had something to do with it, I know it."

"How can you be sure?" Willow asked.

Buffy pursed her lips, thinking about Spike and his battered face. "You always hurt the one you love."

* * *

Tara came to the house that evening to tell Buffy the results of her investigation. Willow was out with Xander and Anya, and Dawn was once again staying over at Janice's, so there was no danger of anyone walking in on them.

"The spell did what it was supposed to do," the witch informed her, "You're fine."

Buffy stared in dismay. "Are you sure?"

"I've double-checked everything. There's nothing wrong with you."

"Then why can Spike hurt me?"

"Well, I said that there's nothing _wrong_ with you, but you are _different_," Tara clarified, "Shifting you out of...f-from where you were...funneling your essence back into your body, it altered you on a basic, molecular level. Probably just enough to confuse the sensors or whatever in Spike's chip. But it's all just surfacey, physical stuff. It wouldn't have any more effect than a bad sunburn." Tara shrugged.

Buffy struggled to wrap her head around this information. "I didn't come back wrong?"

"No. You're the same Buffy," Tara smiled, "With a deep, tropical cellular tan."

Memories of the night before raced through her mind. "Y-You must've missed something. Will you check again?"

The witched frowned, confused by her unwillingness to believe the good news. "Buffy, I promise, there's nothing wrong with you."

"There has to be," tears welled in Buffy's eyes, "This just can't be me. It isn't me. Why do I feel like this? Why did I do those things..."

"What things?"

"Spike. I-I hurt Spike. I just...I kept hitting him and I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop," she buried her face in her hands.

"Wh-What happened?" Tara asked in concern, "Were you fighting? W-Was he trying to hurt you?"

"No," Buffy sobbed, "H-He was trying to protect me. Oh, god..."

Tara looked at her guilt-wracked friend, a suspicion in her growing. "Buffy, are you and Spike—"

"He's everything I'm supposed to be against. But the only time that I ever feel anything is when— " Buffy stopped herself. She met Tara's sympathetic gaze with fearful eyes. "Don't tell anyone, please. The way they would look at me. I just couldn't..."

"I won't tell anyone," the gentle witch promised, "I-I wouldn't do that."

"I love him," Buffy said the words so quietly, they were hard to hear. She stared down at her hands. The knuckles still bore the bruises and scrapes from the beating she inflicted the night before. "Why did I want to hurt him so much? Why couldn't I stop?"

Tara tried to comfort her, "It wasn't your fault. You're going through a really hard time, and you're..."

"What? Just taking it out on him?" Buffy's face grimaced in self-revulsion, "Whats okay about that?"

"It's not that simple," Tara said, aware of how inadequate a response that was.

"It is," Buffy stated firmly, "It's wrong. _I'm_ wrong." Her face crumpled. "Tell me that I'm wrong, please. Please don't forgive me, please! God, please don't..." Buffy fell forward, her face buried in Tara's lap. Tara put her arms around the sobbing woman, tears forming in her own eyes. She didn't say a word, knowing nothing she'd say would ever help; only let Buffy cry her guilt and self-loathing out in the safety of her embrace.


	14. Chapter 14: Older and Far Away

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_My childhood-home I see again,_

_And gladden with the view;_

_And still as mem'ries crowd my brain,_

_There's sadness in it too._

-_My Childhood-Home_, by Abraham Lincoln

"I'll get it!" Dawn jumped up from the dinner table and hurried to answer the knock at the door. Her face lit up the second she saw who it was. "Spike!"

"Hey, Little Bit." The vampire was surprised as the girl flung her arms around him. After a second he reciprocated, a bit awkwardly.

Dawn withdrew and grabbed his hand. "C'mon in!" She half-dragged him through the door. She frowned as he stepped into the lighted interior. "What happened to you? Run into some big bad demon action?"

Spike gestured to his swollen eye, the last remnant of the severe beating he'd received the week before. "Nothin' I couldn't handle, Niblet."

"We were just having dinner," Dawn explained, "Wanna join us?" She turned to Buffy, who arrived to see who the unexpected visitor was. "We've got enough food for another person, right?"

Spike didn't give the Slayer a chance to answer. "'Fraid this isn't a social call, pet."

"Vampires?" Buffy asked.

"Definitely not," he replied, "Some demon I haven't seen before. Nasty looking bugger wavin' a sword around, attacking anybody it sees, human or not."

"Great," Buffy sighed, "I'll go grab some weapons."

Spike waited by the door while Dawn followed Buffy into the living room and watched her collect a variety of weapons in a bag.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said.

Dawn mustered a smile. "It's okay."

"No. we're gonna sit down and have a real dinner...someday. I hate having to run out in the middle. It's just, y'know, there's this thing out there."

"I understand," Dawn tried to sound positive, "Well, maybe when you get back, we can set up for your party tomorrow."

"Yeah, uh, this could take a while, though. I wouldn't wait up." Buffy zipped the bag closed, then put on her coat. "Besides, Willow promised to be on birthday patrol, so there's nothing left for us to do."

Dawn's shoulders slumped. "Right."

"Okay, so, finish dinner, homework, and don't stay up too late. Alright?"

"Okay."

Buffy said a quick goodbye and hurried out the door, followed by Spike, who gave Dawn a parting nod.

It took most of the night, but they finally tracked the demon down in one of the cemeteries. Buffy and Spike each carried an axe, the rest of the weapons stashed out of the way, but still within easy reach should they be needed. Just when Buffy was about ready to give up and call it a night, the demon attacked. It was an ugly, red-faced brute with numerous horns jutting from the sides of its head and a ridiculous large topknot that flopped around when it moved. The demon wielded a gleaming sword with an ornate gold hilt; an incongruously glamorous looking weapon for such a homely creature. With one swing it knocked the axe from Buffy's hand. Buffy grabbed the demon's wrist on the return swing and Spike brought his own axe to bear. Before his weapon made contact with the creature's flesh, the demon suddenly vanished.

"Huh," Spike remarked, "Guess that explains why it got around so fast."

The demon reappeared to his right and he dodged the swinging sword while Buffy kicked the demon in the midsection. Another kick knocked the sword from the creature's grip and she snatched the blade from midair. The demon lunged and Buffy plunged the blade into its belly. There was a roar, a blinding light that sent both Slayer and vampire reeling. When their vision cleared, the demon was gone, only its sword imbedded in the ground remained.

"Run off, huh?" Spike called out, "Afraid to face a couple of true warriors?"

Buffy retrieved her axe from where it had landed and pouted when she saw the handle bent out of shape. "This was one of my favorites."

Spike yanked the abandoned sword out from the ground, offered it to her hilt-first. "At least you got a new sword out of the deal."

"Ooh! Shiny." Buffy accepted the weapon with an eager grin.

Spike chuckled and put his arm around her waist as they began to walk home. "So, what'd I hear the Bit say about a party?"

"Uh, yeah, my birthday's tomorrow," she shrugged, eyes lowered, "It's not gonna be a big thing. Just the usual gang, y'know. Willow, Xander, Anya, Tara, a girl from work named Sophie."

Spike made a noncommittal sound in his throat.

Buffy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, suppressed a wince at the sight of the black eye he still sported. It made her sick every time she saw it, knowing it was her that gave it to him. He'd forgiven her, of course, but that wasn't about to make her feel any better about it. In some ways, it made her feel worse.

The weird thing was, he didn't act any different than before. Not until she told him about Tara's investigation of the spell that brought Buffy back from the dead. When she told him about the whole "tropical cellular tan" thing, she didn't really expect him to care one way or the other. But for some reason, finding out she _hadn't_ come back "wrong" seemed to really bother him. She tried talking to him about it, but he kept changing the subject or ignoring it altogether, until she finally just gave up. It was tense for a couple of days, but things were settling back to normal. Well, normal for _them_.

Buffy took a deep breath, then blurted out in a rush, "Soyouwannacome?"

Spike looked at her in surprise. "You're inviting me to your birthday party?"

"Well, maybe not _inviting_," she prevaricated, "Just sort of...casually letting you know that, if you wanna show up...y'know, if you feel like it..." She squirmed. It had sounded so much better when she rehearsed it in her head. "You don't have to bring a present or anything."

Spike tilted his head. "And what'll your friends say to me showing up?"

She shrugged. "You're part of the team, helping me out on patrol and stuff. Why shouldn't you come? And if you get along with my friends okay—"

"Ah!" Spike nodded in sudden comprehension, "This is you testing the waters with your friends, innit? Seeing how they handle my presence outside of Slayer work before you break the news about us."

"It's not testing," she protested, "There's no test. I want them to get used to you being around. That way, _when_ I tell them about us, it won't be as big a shock. Hopefully."

Spike appeared to consider it. "Can I bring a friend?"

"You have friends?"

"Oi!" he glared at her, "I do happen to have a social life outside of patrolling, I'll have you know."

Buffy held up her hands in surrender. "Okay. Feel free to bring your plus one."

"Alright, then."

"Okay."

The two of them walked on in silence, identical smiles inching across their faces.

* * *

Buffy felt kind of strange watching her friends do all the work of readying the house for the party while she sat around doing nothing. But she had to admit, she rather liked the low-pressureness.

"So, who's coming?" Xander asked as he helped Anya prepare the copious amount of snacks, "You invite anyone else?"

"Just you guys," Buffy replied, "Willow, Tara, the gang. Oh, and Sophie, from work." She noticed the surprise on the couple's faces and went into the defensive. "What? Like I'm one of those losers who can't make friends outside her tight little circle? No. I'm friendly. We bonded instantly. Peas in a pod. Bonded peas."

"Really?" Anya smiled, "Um, what's Sophie's last name?"

Buffy pursed her lips and looked away. "Okay, shut up."

"Don't worry about it," Xander said, "We're all over the 'new friend' thing."

Something about that statement raised a warning flag in her mind. "What 'new friend' thing?"

"Well, um, we invited someone for you," Anya said, then added in an excited whisper, "A guy."

Buffy suppressed a groan as Dawn, overhearing this last part, exclaimed, "For Buffy? Really?" The teen threw her older sister an amused look, knowing Buffy was already spoken for.

Xander waved a negligent hand. "Ah, don't worry. It's not a setup."

"Right. No," Anya agreed with her fiancé, "Just an attractive single man with whom we hope you find much in common." Which would have been fine, had she not proceeded to add, "And if you happen to form a romantic relationship leading to babies and many double dates with us, so we have someone else to talk to—yay!"

Buffy shared a brief look with her sister. "I assume this was an act of kindness?" She was gratified to see Xander look a little shamefaced. "That'll help with the not throttling."

A short while later, Buffy tore herself away from the aspiring matchmakers to answer the door. She was glad to see it was Tara. The two of them had grown closer since Buffy's whole emotional breakdown last week. They met up on occasion and talked. It was nice having a friend she could talk to about her relationship with Spike, among other things. Tara never once came across as judgmental about the fact that Buffy was in love with the vampire.

"So, um, is Spike coming?"

"Maybe. I haven't really told the others," Buffy confessed, "I'm not sure if he'll even show up. I hope he will. It'll be good to see if he can play well with others. Make it easier when I'm ready to—"

"Come out?" Tara quipped.

Buffy laughed. "Yeah."

A very nervous Willow chose that moment to make her appearance and Buffy was quick to excuse herself. She went to the kitchen and busied herself with pouring some drinks. A minute later, a very stressed looking Tara entered the kitchen.

"Hey, how did it—"

"Yes, please." Tara snatched a newly filled cup from Buffy's hand and took a healthy swig.

"Guess that answers my question," Buffy muttered, reaching for another empty cup.

There was a knock at the backdoor, then Spike entered carrying a six-pack under one arm, a second figure coming in behind him.

"Spike!" Buffy didn't even try to hide the fact that she was happy to see him.

"Yeah. Heard about the shindig," he said, playing it cool, "Figured we're all part of the team. Thought I'd, uh, swing by."

Buffy's smile faded as she got a look at Spike's companion. With his loose skin and doglike face, there was no way he could ever be mistaken for human. "Wait, what kind of team is this?"

"Hi," the demon waved a clawed hand, "We met once before."

She vaguely recalled the night of the kitten poker. The details were still a blur, since she'd been drunk off her ass at the time. "Yes. Yes, we did," she smiled politely.

"You know, more the merrier. That whole thing," Spike said.

The demon introduced himself to Tara. "Hi, I'm Clement. Clem."

"Tara," she replied, not at all put off by his looks. _Bless you_, Buffy thought.

Xander chose that moment to usher a good-looking blonde man into the rapidly crowding kitchen. "Buffy," he indicated the newcomer with a flourish, "Richard."

The man smiled and nodded in greeting. Buffy gave a friendly, but noncommittal, "Hey."

"He was wondering where the best place was to park his car," Xander said.

"Oh, that's easy. Just—"

"Buffy will show you." Xander practically threw the guy at Buffy, then beat a hasty retreat.

_You are so gonna pay for this_, Buffy thought angrily. "Okay. Uh, I'll be right back," she said to the others. Her eyes met Spike's for a second and she saw the vampire's scarred eyebrow rise.

As they were leaving, Richard whispered, "Um, the guy with the..."

She glanced back at Clem, thought up a quick lie. "Skin condition. He doesn't like to talk about it."

Richard seemed willing to accept that explanation.

As soon as Buffy left with her guest, Spike scoffed a derisive, "Stupid git."

"I don't know," Tara said, her mischievous side coming through, "He seemed...cute. W-W-Was he cute? I mean, I'm not a very good judge, but I think he seemed cute." She smirked at the vampire's flustered look.

The ever-affable Clem nodded and said, "I think he seemed cute, yeah."

Spike glared at the demon.

Buffy used a bathroom break as an excuse to get away from her unwanted suitor. When she returned, Spike was there to ambush her.

"You want to slip away for a minute, luv?" He took her by the arm and led her to the little alcove behind the stairs.

"What?" Buffy asked, following his lead and keeping her voice low.

Spike leered. "I'll let you blow out my candles."

Buffy snorted and covered her mouth. "Oh, my god. That was the worst line."

"Maybe," he conceded with a grin, "Still...interested?"

She frowned in surprise. "Here? Now?"

"Oh, what? You worried about Richard?" Spike rolled his eyes, "You don't wanna make your new boyfriend jealous, huh?"

"Shut up," she smiled, "He's...sweet."

"Oh, shut up. He's sweet," Spike mocked with a teasing grin.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe he's not the jealous one." She squeezed past him and returned to the living room where the party was taking place.

"You think he'll take you out on his ten-speed, pet?" Spike said to her retreating back, "Maybe he'll let you ride in that little basket up front." He scoffed, then muttered, "Jealous, my arse."

Dawn peeked out from the living room. "C'mon, Spike! She's opening presents."

Spike sighed and followed the girl. He leaned in the doorway, watching as Buffy unwrapped her first gift. When Buffy pulled a strange-looking device out of the box, it was clear she had no clue what it was. "Uh..."

"It's a battery operated back massager," Willow declared proudly, "And it's portable, so you can take it with you on patrol. It's, like, instant gratification for all your little acheys."

Buffy's eyes automatically went to Spike and felt a blush coming on at his suggestive smirk. Buffy put the massager aside, making a mental note to put it in her weapons bag before the next patrol. "Great. Thanks. Uh, what's next?"

Dawn eagerly handed her a beautifully wrapped box. Buffy gasped when she discovered the leather coat neatly folded inside. "It's goregous."

Dawn beamed.

Buffy noticed a piece of plastic attached to the coat. "It still has the security tag on it."

Spike was the only one to notice the blood drain from the teen's face. "That...That's so weird," the girl stammered, "I-I can't believe they didn't take that off."

Buffy was distracted from any suspicions when Xander and Anya presented their gift; a beautiful wooden chest Xander had constructed himself to hold all her weapons. Then Sophie, the last guest, finally arrived and Buffy made the introductions. Sophie was in her early twenties with curly brown hair and an expression of permanent distraction.

"Uh, my mom told me to say thank you right away, 'cause otherwise I usually forget. So, thank you!" she smiled nervously, "And also, um, I can't have any...any chocolate or-or peanuts or egg yolks..."

"Is that the friend you brought from work?" Anya whispered, an uncharacteristic show of tact for her.

"Yes," Buffy replied, refusing to justify her decision to invite the strange girl.

"...And sometimes dairy," Sophie finished.

Outside on the darkened porch, a woman stepped out of the shadows and gazed at the closed door. She smiled, her face transforming from the human Dawn knew as her guidance counselor, to the distinctive veins and ridges of the vengeance demon Halfrek. "Wish granted."

* * *

The party was in full swing. Upbeat music blared from the stereo. Sophie and Clem—who'd strangely hit it off right away—were dancing. Willow and Xander were goofing off. Anya was nodding to the music from the couch, and beside her, Dawn viewed it all with a happy smile.

Buffy left the room to see if there were any more drinks in the kitchen when she ran into Richard in the hallway. She'd been pretty successful in avoiding him most of the night, but the guy was persistent. Not pushy or anything; he just didn't take the hint. He was a nice enough guy, and very cute, but after a few minutes with him Buffy realized he was rather boring. Sadly, a couple of years ago he would have been just her type. But her tastes had changed quite a bit since then. Obviously.

"Hey," Richard greeted, "Great party. Everyone's having fun."

Buffy smiled politely. "I hope so."

"I mean, look what time it is. And no one's even thinking about leaving," his gaze fixed on her, "I know I can't tear myself away."

Buffy's smile became a little more forced.

"Hey, can I get you a drink?"

Buffy noticed movement over his shoulder and saw Spike looming in the kitchen door. "Uh... I'm good, thank you. I think I'll just head back in."

Richard didn't seem at all deterred by her brush-off. "Well, I'll look for you."

"Okay," she said, mostly to hurry him along. Thankfully, it worked.

As soon as Richard was gone, Spike sauntered over to her, a teasing grin on his face. "Ooh, Buffy," he said in a high, mocking tone, "Can I get you a soda pop? I think I'm in looove."

Buffy's shoulders shook with suppressed giggles. Spike caught her around the waist, but she squirmed out of his arms. "Stop it. Someone's gonna see."

She glanced around, beckoned him over to a spot out of the living room's immediate view. She leaned against the wall and tugged Spike's coat lapels, letting him close the distance between them. Spike's kiss was slow and sensual, and possessive at the same time. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, then his tongue soothed it. Buffy moaned, the sound sending shocks straight to Spike's groin. Without breaking the kiss, he took her hand and guided it towards the front of his jeans. Buffy's fingers were just sliding under the waistband when instinct told her they were no longer alone.

Buffy jerked away from the vampire and looked to the side in panic, only to feel a surge of relief when she discovered the interloper was Tara. The witch's eyes twinkled in amusement.

Spike, not realizing Tara was in the know, tried to salvage the situation with a hastily thought-out lie. "I had a...muscle cramp. Buffy was, uh, helping."

Buffy gave him an _oh, please_ look.

"A muscle cramp?" Tara's mouth twitched in a suppressed grin, "In your...pants?"

"What? It's a thing," Spike retorted.

"Riiight." The witch smirked, then turned and went back to the party.

Buffy laughed. "It's okay. She knows."

"Oh. You...told her?"

"Don't look so shocked," she chastised, smiling, "It wasn't planned. It just sort of came out when we talked about her researching the spell. She won't tell anyone."

Spike took a moment to process this. "So, does this mean you'll be telling the others about us soon?"

Buffy sighed, "Spike..."

"No, forget it," Spike waved a negligent hand, "When you're ready. I know." He didn't want to argue on her birthday. Besides, the fact that she'd let Tara in on the secret of their relationship gave him hope.

"We'd better get back to the party," Buffy said with some regret.

"Right," Spike muttered, then brightened as an idea came to him. "You know...I hear there's this tradition involving birthdays and spanking."

Buffy looked at him, amusement shining in her face. "I think you're right. Should we give it a try later?"

"Well, far be it for us to buck with tradition." His arms slid around her waist. "Later? My crypt?"

Buffy's answer was to put her arms around his neck and pull him down into another kiss.

Some time later, they broke out the boardgames and started playing. Anya was dominating at Monopoly, as usual whenever she played a game involving fake money. Meanwhile, Spike, Clem, Xander, and Tara were playing poker at the folding table.

"I still say it's weird without the kittens," Clem muttered.

The hour was growing late, or incredibly early, depending on how one looked at it. Yet nobody felt the desire to leave.

"We should totally have a slumber party," Dawn declared excitedly.

"Oh, I don't know," Buffy vacillated, "I guess, as long as everyone's staying up anyway."

"Must be some late night activities to keep us busy 'til morning," Spike drawled from over at the poker table. Even though he didn't look up from his cards, he felt Buffy staring daggers at him.

"How's that cramp, Spike?" Tara suddenly asked, "Still bothering you?"

Spike frowned at her, confused. "What? Oh. Yeah."

"Maybe you, uh, wanna put some ice on it," the witch smirked.

Buffy held back a laugh at the vampire's flustered expression.

And so it went, on until the morning. By sunup, Tara and Sophie were asleep on the couch. Xander, Dawn, and Clem were watching early morning cartoons on TV. And Spike and Buffy were sitting on the floor playing gin rummy. Richard came into the living room and said, "Hey, Xander, we gotta be at work in a few minutes."

"Okay," Xander replied absently, eyes still riveted to the television.

Richard shifted anxiously. "I can't be late today."

"You should definitely go," Spike all-too-willingly agreed, "Let's find your coat and get you on your merry way."

"Spike," Buffy sighed. He'd been making snide comments about and toward Richard all night. It was funny the first hour or so, but now it was getting on her nerves.

"I don't know why I'm not leaving," Richard murmured, bewildered.

"Me, either," Spike frowned, shrugged, "Besides, Richie, you can't skip breakfast, a growing boy like you. Me, I used to love breakfast. In the old days, I probably would've eaten by now."

"Of course, with that new diet of yours, you wanna be careful what you try and put in your mouth now, Spikey," Buffy's tone held an edge of warning. Which Spike chose to ignore.

"Yeah? I dunno. Tummy's making all kinds of gurglies. Maybe I ought to just feed on whatever's around, even if it doesn't go down well." He cast a predatory smile towards Richard. "You, uh, workout?"

Fed up with his immaturity, Buffy grabbed him by the arm, pulled him to the feet, and half-dragged him out into the lobby. "Hey, Mr. Passive-Aggressive Guy," she hissed, "Seriously, you want to take it down a notch or two in there?"

"What? Poor, dainty Richard can't take a joke?" Spike scoffed.

"We _do not _joke about eating people in this house!"

"What're you gonna do?" he challenged, "Beat me up again?"

Buffy's jaw fell open. He was actually going there. "God! I was insane to ever think you could just hang out with my friends!"

"And I was insane to think—" he paused, cocked his head, "No, wait. You were right. _You're _insane."

"I think it's time for you to go," she stated.

"Yeah, well, can't," he pointed at the curtained windows, "Daylight."

"Okay, _I'll_ go." She was well past the point of rational thinking by then.

"I'll get the door," Spike retorted.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Buffy fidgeted. "I'm actually trying to move right now."

"Me too." Spike frowned.

A moment of tense silence.

"Well," Buffy met his troubled look, "This can't be good."

No one could leave. Even when they made a concerted effort all at once, none of them could take a step towards the door. When they tried the phones, they found the line was dead. They were completely cut off from the outside world.

Magic was clearly in play. For whatever reason, someone or something was keeping them trapped. For Sophie and Richard, it was especially upsetting, since they had no clue what was going on. Buffy tried her best to prevent a panic.

"We all have places we'd rather be," she said in what she hoped was a calming tone.

"Things we'd rather be doing," Spike added, the innuendo earning him a glare from the Slayer.

"I think our first priority should be to find a way out."

"Sure," Dawn spoke up, her voice laden with deep-seated anger, "Of course you all want to leave. 'Cause being stuck in here with me, that'd really suck, right?"

"No, Dawnie," Willow denied, "It's just we have...more important things to do." The redhead grimaced at her poor choice of words.

Dawn abruptly got to her feet. "Yeah. I know. Important. Whatever that means, right?" She left the living room in a huff and ran upstairs to her room.

A moment later, Buffy, Spike, and the Scoobies followed. Her reaction to their desire to leave couldn't be ignored. But if she did have anything to do with their predicament, she wasn't telling. Her anger and bitterness astonished Buffy. She had no idea Dawn was carrying that kind of emotional baggage.

"I'm glad you're trapped," the girl spat, "How else can I get anybody to spend any time with me?"

"Dawn," Buffy tried to reason, "if you want us to spent time with you—"

"I don't. Get out," Dawn's voice rose shrilly, "Get out, get out, _get out!_"

They left her alone. Even if she did have something to do with this, she obviously wasn't motivated to help them.

"I just can't figure out why she didn't come to me," Buffy said regretfully.

"Well, you have been a little busy lately," Xander pointed out. He wasn't accusing her, but Buffy winced all the same.

Spike cut in, "Hey, I don't wanna keep you all from the touchy-feelies, but maybe the encounter group can meet later? Say, when we're not trapped in a house."

For once, everyone agreed with the vampire. They needed to focus on the task at hand. Magic seemed to be the best option. Willow couldn't do it, of course, but Tara was more than capable. Unfortunately, she didn't have any of the necessary supplies.

"Well, we don't have any in the house," Buffy said, "We got rid of everything."

A very uncomfortable Willow spoke up, "Actually...not everything. I, uh, might've kept one or two things. Just in case."

Everyone had the same mix of disappointment and relief in their expressions. But there was no time for recriminations. Willow brought Tara the supplies, then she and the others waited by the front door while Buffy and Xander assisted Tara in the kitchen. Tara put a mixture of various herbs and oils into a mixing bowl, lit it with a match, and whispered, "Release."

The flames quickly died and the smoke drifted like a living thing through the house, seeking a spell to nullify. After a moment, Tara called out, "Try the door."

Spike stood directly in front of the door. The knob was easily within reach, but no matter now hard he strained, his arm refused to reach for it. After a few minutes of futile struggle, he gave up with a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, in the living room where no one saw, Tara's magic found a target that fit the parameters she set for it. The animate smoke wrapped itself around the gleaming new sword Buffy had gotten from the demon on her last patrol. The blade's outer surface seemed to liquify and pool itself on the floor, then gradually started to rise up and morph into a standing figure. As the red-faced demon solidified, it reached for the sword.

A sudden roar shook the defeated group from their collective sulk and sent most of them scattering as the demon bore down on them, wielding its former prison. Spike dodged a wild swing, but Richard wasn't fast enough to avoid a deep cut across the belly. As Richard fell, Spike grabbed the demon's sword arm and Buffy tackled the creature, sending them sprawling. Before Buffy could do anything else, the demon seemed to melt into the floorboards. She and Spike stood together, gazing warily around them. The demon reappeared behind her, tried to strike her down, but Buffy was able to grab its wrist before the blow landed. The demon threw her off and she cannoned into Spike. By the time they regained their feet, the creature had vanished again.

"That's the demon we killed to nights ago," Buffy declared.

"The demon we _thought _we killed," Spike corrected.

Richard was alive, but badly hurt. They carried him upstairs and put him in one of the bedrooms. What he really needed, though, was a doctor.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," Buffy said, trying to ease the panic she saw in everyone's eyes, "I promise, we'll be out of here soon."

But when night came, they were still trapped.

Sophie stood at one of the windows, staring out at the peaceful street and groaning "oh god, oh god," over and over. She pretty much spoke for all of them at that point.

"Okay, so maybe 'soon' was a bit of an overstatement," Buffy muttered ruefully.

"So, you ever think about _not_ celebrating a birthday?" Spike wryly asked, "Just to try it, I mean."

"I'm gonna go check upstairs," Buffy said, "Keep an eye on things down here?"

Spike nodded. He might not like all of her friends, but he'd protect them because they mattered to her.

Buffy got a dagger from her weapons cache, wishing once again that she still had her axe. As she made the rounds, a groaning, creaking noise rose through the house. The sound of the demon moving through the walls. Buffy's entire body sang with tension as she moved through the halls, certain the creature was going to attack at any second. A tall, gray figure suddenly stepped out in front of her. Buffy gasped and just barely stopped herself from stabbing an equally startled Clem.

"Sorry," the dog-faced demon grinned in apology.

Meanwhile, Xander went downstairs to get some water for Anya. The former vengeance demon wasn't handling the situation well and Xander was trying everything he could to keep her calm. As he made his cautious way towards the kitchen, the demon stepped out of the wall behind him. Xander yelled as the creature grabbed him and brought its sword towards his neck.

Hearing Xander's cry, Spike rushed out from the living room and grabbed the demon's sword arm. When he couldn't disarm it, he punched the creature hard in the side. The demon retaliated with an elbow to the vampire's face. Spike fell back, stunned. The demon flung Xander against the far wall. That was when Buffy arrived and she and the demon fought. The demon managed to knock the dagger from her hand, and a wild backswing brought the tip of the sword slashing across Xander's arm.

"Grab the sword!" Buffy shouted.

Spike leapt to his feet, tried to wrestle the sword away. The demon punched him and sent him sprawling again. Then the creature vanished into the wall.

"Are you hurt?" Buffy asked both men.

Anya slowly walked in, shock and despair written all over her expression. Xander immediately got to his feet and went to her, ignoring the pain in his arm as he reassured her that he was okay.

Buffy saw Dawn standing in the living room's entryway. She went to her sister and said, "It's getting kinda scary. You okay?"

The teen schooled her expression into one of indifference. "Do you care?"

Buffy struggled to hold her temper. "Fine. Stay with Spike." She stormed out of the room.

Dawn's mask of apathy cracked as she watched her sister leave. The teen hurried to follow. "It's not like I meant for this to happen," she called after her.

Buffy paused, sensing she was ready to talk. "I never said that you did."

"I didn't want this," the girl insisted.

Buffy turned to face her. "What did you want?" When the teen didn't answer, Buffy urged, "Dawn, come on."

"No," Dawn's voice trembled, "You don't know. You have this thing you do. You have all these friends, and Spike. You have no idea what it's like."

"What are you talking about."

"Being alone."

Buffy stared at her, uncomprehending. "You're not alone."

"Then why do I feel like this?"

They went upstairs to Buffy's room and talked. Buffy learned about her sister's constant loneliness and fear of abandonment. A lot of it sprang from the things that happened to them over the last year. But a lot of it was also Buffy's fault, and she knew it. She was never around. Always working or patrolling. Or hiding away in Spike's crypt. The latter was especially Buffy's fault for thinking she could keep her relationship with the vampire separate from the rest of her life.

"Dawn," she said with every sincerity, "the most important job that I have is looking out for you."

Dawn snorted, "You sound like my guidance counselor. She give you a handbook or something?"

Buffy frowned. "Counselor?"

* * *

Spike was going stir-crazy. Stuck in a house with people he, by and large, didn't give a rat's ass about, with a crazed sword-wielding demon scrabbling through the walls...and the smell of blood from Xander's wound was making him that much more aware of the fact that he hadn't fed since before this ill-fated birthday party. He wanted to put some distance between himself and the tempting, but untouchable, walking Happy Meals, but he promised Buffy he'd look out for them. Didn't help his state of mind when Anya finally lost it and tried to bully Willow into falling off the wagon. When Tara stood up in the redhead's defense, Anya left the room in a huff, muttering about _doing something_, Xander at her heels What she thought she could possibly do, Spike hadn't a clue. He wasn't going to bother running after her. He stayed in the living room with the others until Dawn came hurrying down the stairs a few minutes later, followed by Anya, Buffy, and Xander.

"I work hard at that store," Anya grabbed the girl's arm, halting her retreat, "And I helped you. I took care of you. This is how you say thank you?"

Buffy tried to come to her sister's defense. "Anya, hold on, okay?" she turned to Dawn, "Tell her you didn't do this. Tell her it's a mistake."

But Dawn couldn't say it. Then Buffy's eyes wandered to the leather coat she'd received from the girl, forgotten in all the excitement. The coat with the security tag still attached.

"How are we supposed to trust you, Dawn?" Anya's voice was no longer angry, only hurt, "I mean, you say you didn't put us here, but look at this stuff. How are we supposed to believe you?"

Buffy pushed her disappointment aside and spoke up, "Look, I-I don't think she— I don't think it's all her fault. She— There was a guidance counselor, or someone pretending to be a guidance counselor. She made Dawn make a wish."

Anya gave the teen a you-should-know-better look. "You made a wish to someone you've never seen before?"

"Yeah," Dawn answered in a tiny voice.

"Did she wear a pendant with a dark blue stone?" Anya asked.

The girl nodded. "And little red flecks?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Anya groaned, then shouted at the ceiling, "Halfrek!" She explained to Dawn, "It's Halfrek, a vengeance demon. You made a wish to a vengeance demon. Only a vengeance demon can break her own vengeance spell. Nothing else will work. She's the only one who can get us out of here." She yelled, "Hallie, get your ass down here!"

The vengeance demon appeared in a dramatic puff of smoke. "You rang?"

Before Anya had a chance to say anything, a sword blade suddenly ripped through the front of Halfrek's torso. The red-faced demon yanked the sword free and the wide-eyed Halfrek collapsed onto the floor. The demon swung its sword at Buffy, but she grabbed its wrist, halting it mid-swing. Anya ran over and began punching the demon. "I hope you die, you stupid jerkface!"

Spike rushed in to help. As Anya was knocked aside, he and Buffy fought the enraged demon. But even against two opponents, the demon was formidable. Especially since it could melt into the floor or walls when things got hairy and reappear at random somewhere else.

At one point, Spike was lucky enough to knock the weapon from the creature's grip. "The sword!"

Buffy snatched up the sword. The demon tried to make a break for it, but Buffy stabbed the wall it retreated through and, with a loud roar and a blaze of light, the demon was once again trapped within the sword. Buffy immediately snapped the blade in half across her knee and tossed the now useless halves away.

Everyone's eyes went to the motionless vengeance demon on the floor.

"Her pendant!" Anya cried, "Get her pendant!"

Halfrek's eyes opened and she got to her feet. "There will be no touching of the pendant," she stated primly. Noticing she shocked looks, she laughed and said, "What? Did you think I'd be stopped by a sword in the chest? Flesh wound. Honestly, Anyanka, you used to know better."

Anya stared at her old friend in obvious hurt. "How could you? Why would you do this to us?"

"I told you I was going to take care of some business while I was in town," Halfrek replied without a trace of remorse.

"Yeah, but cursing us?" Anya flung out her hands, exasperated, "Some of them are in the wedding party."

"I just go where I'm—" Halfrek froze as her eyes fixated on Spike. The look on her face was one of shocked recognition. "William?"

Spike frowned at the demon, then his eyebrows rose in growing surprise. "Hey, wait a minute."

"You guys know each other?" Buffy asked.

Halfrek blinked, shook herself. "Uh, no! No." She tittered and actually primped her hair while glancing sidelong at the vampire.

Buffy scowled as the sudden urge to punch the demon in her veiny face rose up in her. But she pushed it aside and focused on the task at hand, i.e. getting Halfrek to lift the curse. It wasn't so simple, of course. Halfrek thought herself fully justified in punishing them all for Dawn's suffering.

"This girl was in pain, and none of you could hear it," she gestured to Dawn, who looked away, "I could hear her crying out everywhere I went in this town. It was unbearable. And none of you knew." She looked at them all in disgust. "You people deserve to be cursed. Enjoy your time together. From now on, all you have is time. Time...and each other." She smirked in Spike's direction. "Good luck."

And with a dramatic wave of her arms...she stayed exactly where she was. Halfrek blinked, gave a nervous laugh. "Wait. Wait." She cleared her throat, repeated, "Time and each other," in a mutter, then flung out her arms and...went nowhere.

A smug grin worked its way across Spike's face.

Anya rolled her eyes. "It's the curse, Hallie," she said, confirming the vampire's suspicion.

The vengeance demon huffed, "For crying out loud. Fine! The curse is lifted! We can all leave, now! Damn it." A snap of her fingers, and she vanished.

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Coats and bags were gathered. Xander and Anya retrieved Richard from upstairs to get him to the emergency room. They all gathered at the door, waiting to see if the curse really was over.

"Think it's worn off?" Buffy asked.

Spike quirked an eyebrow. " Just one thing to do." He sauntered over to the door and, without hesitation, turned the knob. The door swung open with a welcome creak and a mini stampeded took place as everyone eagerly stepped out into the world.

Spike lingered in the doorway, turned to face Buffy. "You're stayin', I take it."

Buffy nodded, glanced back at Dawn. "We have a lot of talking to do." _And I have a lot of neglect to make up for._

Spike nodded in understanding.

"So...How exactly do you and Halfrek know each other?"

The vampire smirked at the not-so-casual question. "Jealous, pet?"

"No," she said with a little too much force, "Just, y'know, curious."

Spike smiled. "Kind of hard to see with all the veins and such, but I'm fairly sure her name used to be Cecily."

"Cecily," Buffy's eyebrows rose, "As in—"

"The woman who broke William's heart, yeah."

"Oh." She processed this for a second, then a scowl creased her face. "Bitch!"

Spike chuckled. "Look at it this way: if Cecily hadn't treated me like dirt, I wouldn't have run out that night, wouldn't have found Dru and been turned. And I wouldn't be here now."

Buffy's anger faded somewhat. "Well, when you put it like that... Oh, who am I kidding? She's still a bitch."

Spike laughed, delighted by her automatically siding with him. He leaned in and kissed her. "I'll see you later, luv."

"You'd better," she whispered, "You still owe me a birthday spanking."

Spike's grin turned lascivious. He stole one last kiss, then left Buffy to work things out with her sister. As he walked back to his crypt—and the fridge full of blood that awaited him—he tipped his head back and gazed at the clear, open sky. It was a beautiful night.


	15. Chapter 15: As You Were

**A/N:** Here's another favorite episode of mine. And after this, the AU gets even more AU, as you'll figure out at the end of the chapter. Enjoy!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Old spirit, in and beyond me, _

_keep, and extend me. Amid strangers, _

_friends, great trees and big seas breaking, _

_let love move me. Let me hear the whole music, _

_see clear, reach deep. Open me to find due words, _

_that I may shape them to ploughshares of my own making._

_After such luck, however late, give me to give to _

_the oldest dance…. Then to good sleep, _

_and—if it happens—glad waking._

-_Hope_, by Philip Booth

It was the end of another hellish day in a long line of hellish days at he Doublemeat Palace. Buffy was scraping the congealed grease off the grill while Todd, the evening manager, prattled on in his conceited, well-read way.

"You see, Buffy, the thing you gotta learn about he Palace—and this takes a while—is that job security boils down to one simple thing. Politics. Now, I'm not a political animal. But you learn fast around here, or it's wham! Hello, glass ceiling. You gotta keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. It's like Machiavelli says," he paused, gave her a sidelong look, "You know Machiavelli, right?"

Buffy knew that Todd knew she didn't, but the jerk couldn't resist the chance to rub in how much smarter he was than her. And in spite of knowing this, Buffy still stupidly played along. "Tall guy, bleached mullet, works day shifts?"

Todd made an amused sound. "I'm sorry. My bad. I keep forgetting you dropped out of college."

_Smug prick_, Buffy silently snarled. "I'm reapplying."

"Good luck with that," he condescended. "Well, gotta motor. Don't wanna be late for night school."

"You go to night school?" Great, there went her theory that he was just full of hot air.

"Think I wanna spend the rest of my life cleaning grease traps?" he grimaced. "Don't forget to lock up before you go. And the gum under the tables...be sure to give it a good scrape before you leave."

Buffy plastered a fake eager smile on her face. "Gosh, may I?"

Her sarcasm was wasted, as Todd was already out the door. "See you tomorrow!"

"Yes you will," she muttered, "And the day after that...and the day after that..."

The walk home wasn't any better. Not only did Buffy have the Doublemeat commercial jingle stuck in her head, but the skanky vampire she ran into decided she smelled too awful to bite. She staked him anyway, just on principle.

As she shuffled towards the front door of her house, a familiar tingle of her Slayer senses elicited a tired groan from her. "Oh, for Pete's sake. Spike." She turned to see the blonde vampire appear from behind his favorite tree for spying on the house.

"Ah, it's a fair cop. You caught me, Slayer," he grinned and walked towards her, "However, in all honesty, I think we have to say this one doesn't count. After all, I wasn't exactly hiding."

"No, Spike," Buffy sighed.

"No?" he frowned, "What kind of answer is that? You haven't even heard the question, yet."

"I don't have to. We both know what you're thinking."

He came to a halt in front of her, his voice dropping seductively, "We both know that I'm not the only one thinking it."

He reached out as if to unbutton her coat. Buffy pushed his hand away. "No, not here."

"Why not?" he pouted, and damned if it wasn't adorable. In spite of her exhaustion, Buffy fought back a smile.

"Dawn's inside waiting for her dinner," she held up a paper bag from work.

"So? She knows about us."

"Willow's inside, too."

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow. "So, it's the fear of getting caught, then, is it?" He shrugged. "It needn't be an obstacle." Taking her hand, he started leading her away from the house to a part of the yard sheltered in darkness.

"Spike, I mean it! C'mon," Buffy whined.

"I hear you're serious," he gently pushed her back up against a tree, "So am I. I want you. You want me. I can't go inside, so...maybe the time is right for you to come outside."

Buffy heaved a tired sigh. She was exhausted from working too many double shifts and depressed from what the vampire she staked earlier had said about the smell. "Spike... Look, I know I smell bad—"

"I don't care about that," he interjected. His hands gently framed her face. "I know you're knackered, luv. Working too hard at that sodding grease pit, taking care of the Little Bit, patrolling every night. You're done in." His lips brushed against her forehead. "I just want to make you feel better, luv," he murmured, "Just for a little while. You know I can."

Buffy closed her eyes, let herself lean into his comforting hold. Finally, she nodded. "Okay."

"Relax," he said as he slowly lowered her to the ground, "Let me take care of you."

For a while, it was simple. For a while, there was only the soft grass beneath her, the tree branches whispering in the breeze above her, and Spike making soothing love to her. But then it ended, Spike said a tender goodnight to her, and reality made its ugly presence known once again.

She found Dawn in the kitchen looking through the fridge's meager contents. The teen smiled brightly in greeting. Since Buffy's ill-fated birthday party, the sisters had gotten closer. Buffy still had to be away from home a lot, but she managed to squeeze a few minutes every day to spend with her younger sister, and Dawn was more understanding of Buffy's heavy load of responsibility. No more thieving or acting out. No more resentment. The rest of Buffy's life might feel like it was going down the tubes, but at least she and Dawn were getting better.

"Rough night?" the girl asked, taking in the older sister's rumpled appearance.

"The usual. I brought you dinner." Buffy set the bag on the counter. Dawn gave a polite, but uninterested smile as she removed the flattened burger.

"It looks kinda squished."

"Oh, well just... Y'know, just give it a sec," Buffy picked up the burger, patted it like she was fluffing a pillow, "These babies really bounce back."

Dawn's expression turned apologetic. "Buffy, i-it's not like I don't appreciate it. I do. It's just that...I can't eat this stuff another night. I'm sorry."

Buffy tried to hide the hurt Dawn's honest words brought on. "Oh. No, it's all good. Tell you what, tomorrow night I'll bring home the Fisherman's Nuggets with Cheese."

"Hmm." The girl was less than thrilled.

Willow entered the kitchen and took the empty stool beside Buffy. "Hey, workin' lady. Rough night?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that?" Buffy wondered.

"No reason," Willow was quick to assure, "I just thought you were busy with the slayage 'cause of that grass stain. Some vamp get rough with you?"

The redhead didn't notice the grin Dawn was barely able to stifle.

Buffy checked the large green stain with a frown. "He's not getting any gentler," she muttered.

"He?" Willow blinked.

Buffy hastened to cover up her accidental slip. "They. Them. Y'know, vampires in the general population sense." She winced at the ruined coat. "Now I'm gonna have to wash this." Probably after she got through the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink.

"Ready for a bold suggestion?" Willow grinned, excited, "Blow it off. Dawnie and I are headed out to The Bronze."

"Um, do I have your permission and wanna come along?" Dawn blurted out in a single breath, "Heh. You like how I slipped in that permission request like that?"

Buffy offered a regretful smile. "You guys go. I've seen enough action for one night."

They tried to change her mind, but she just didn't have it in her to socialize. After promising to have Dawn home by eleven, Willow and the teen bade Buffy a good night and left for The Bronze.

"Have a good time," Buffy said, then muttered to herself, "Somebody should."

She was just starting on the dishes when the backdoor opened. Buffy turned, expecting either Willow or Dawn had forgotten something, only to find Spike standing in the doorway. "Spike? What're you doing here? I thought you'd left."

Spike shut the door behind him and approached her. "I did. Was on my way back to the crypt, but then I turned around. Heard most of the conversation from outside, so I know you're all alone now."

Buffy's throat tightened at his choice of words. "I have a lot to do. I can't— I don't have time to play house right now." She turned back to the saucepan she was scrubbing.

Spike came up beside her, took the sponge from her hand. "Go sit down, luv. I'll take care of this."

"Y-You don't have to—"

"You're exhausted." His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the dark circle under her eye. "Give yourself a break. I can handle the washing up."

Buffy chewed her lip, then reluctantly nodded. "Just for a few minutes."

"Right." Spike's smile faded as he watched her shuffle out to the living room. God, he hated seeing her like that. Not for much longer, he reminded himself. The money from his little side deals was adding up. Pretty soon he'd have enough, and then Buffy's days in fast food hell would be over.

* * *

Buffy woke to the sound of a large vehicle pulling away from the curb outside. She was lying on the couch with a throw covering her, sunlight streaming through the windows. As she heard the revving diesel engine, she sat up with a jolt. "Garbage."

She flung off the blanket, found her coat draped over the back of a chair and threw it on, then grabbed the two full garbage bags kept waiting by the backdoor and ran out to catch the departing truck. "Wait! Wait up, guys!"

As seemed in keeping with her luck lately, the garbage truck didn't stop. Buffy stood forlornly in the street, still clutching the bags. "Don't you want your garbage?" she asked in a pathetic voice. Shoulders slumped, she returned to the house, left the trash bags out by the door to fester until the next pick-up. She checked the mailbox before going inside. There were several envelopes, most of which were probably overdue bills.

"Hey, Buffy," Dawn greeted from the breakfast bar, "Oh, don't forget, today's trash day."

"Thanks," Buffy drawled sarcastically. She leafed through the mail, found a letter from the university's admittance office. Heart pounding in sudden excitement, she ripped open the letter and read its contents.

_Dear Ms. Summers. We are sorry to reject your application for re-admittance to UCSD..._

Buffy's heart sank. Her hopes of returning to college were shattered in the span of a few brief words. This was it for her, a lifetime of slaying demons and working crap jobs to make ends meet. Might as well just resign herself to it.

"What's that?" Dawn asked, innocently unaware of her sister's devastation.

Buffy crumpled the letter and flung it into the trash. "Nothing." She noticed Dawn standing there with an armload of books. "Where are you going?"

"School," Dawn replied, the _duh_ implicit in her voice.

"Oh, yeah," Buffy uttered a weary laugh, "Uh, don't you want breakfast first?"

"Already made it." Dawn smiled and picked up her bag. "See you this afternoon? Unless you're working. Tonight, then. Or, y'know, tomorrow's cool." She gave Buffy a peck on the cheek. "Don't work too hard."

"Bye." Buffy watched her sister leave, then took of her coat with a heavy sigh and turned to the sink, thinking she should get started on those dishes she'd put off the night before. She blinked in surprise when she discovered the sink now empty, the dishes washed and placed neatly in the drying rack. She looked down at the coat in her arms and saw the grass stain wasn't nearly as noticeable as it was the night before. Someone had made an effort to scrub it out.

_Spike._ Buffy hugged the coat, tears stinging her eyes. It said a lot about her state of mind that a small act of kindness would make her weepy. It also said a lot about a vampire who would do such a thing without expecting anything in return. Buffy smiled, wiped her eyes. Her life could definitely be worse.

She reminded herself of this as she worked through yet another shift at the Doublemeat. Might've worked better had Todd not also been scheduled to work as manager that day. The guy's incessant droning was especially irritating that day.

"Heard back from your college yet?" he asked suddenly.

Buffy was glad she was working at the grill with her back to him, otherwise he would've seen the murderous expression that came over her. "Yeah."

"All right," Todd replied with absolutely no interest, "You know, we're out of special sauce."

"I'll get it," she sighed.

"No, no," Todd grinned, "Your turn up front. I'll deal back here. You take the customers."

Bastard. He _knew_ Buffy hated working the counter. She dragged herself to the first available cash register and recited without enthusiasm, "Welcome to the Doublemeat Palace. How may I help...you." Her eyes widened.

Standing before her, dressed in black battle armor, sporting a new scar across his left eye, was the last person Buffy ever expected to see again.

"Hey," Riley smiled.

Buffy struggled to say something coherent, "Huh?"

"Sorry to drop in on you like this, Buffy."

"It's you," she said, dazed.

"It's me," he agreed.

"You're here. And...were you always this tall?" Even leaning on the counter, he towered more than a foot above her. Buffy forgot how gigantic her ex-boyfriend was.

"Look, this isn't the way I wanted it," Riley spoke urgently, "But something's come up, something big, and we don't have much time. Understand?"

"Not a word so far," she confessed.

"Right," he sighed, "I should've known. Anticipated. I want to explain, I just don't have time. I've been up for forty-eight hours straight tracking something bad. Now it's come to Sunnydale."

"My hat has a cow," she said despairingly. Her poor, overwrought brain still hadn't caught up.

Fortunately, Riley remembered this particular quirk of hers and didn't bat an eye. "I know that I'm putting you on the spot showing up like this, but—but, you know, here we are. I need the best. I need you, Buffy. Can you help me?"

At that point Todd arrived to see what the holdup was. "Hello? Buffy? People are waiting."

Buffy came to a decision. She took off her stupid hat, shoved it into Todd's hands, then grabbed her jacket from where she had it stashed under the counter and followed Riley out the door.

"I'm sorry this is all so sudden," Riley said, "If we get a minute, I'd really like to sit down—" Something beeped and he removed a hand-held device from his utility belt.

"What is it?" Buffy asked.

Riley, not realizing she meant the gadget, answered, "Suvolte demon. Rare, lethal. Nearly extinct, but not nearly enough. It's close." He looked surprise at Buffy's sudden laughter. "What?"

"Sorry. It's just...you still carry around all that James Bond stuff. It's so cute. I forgot." She cleared her throat self-consciously. "Sorry. Carry on."

Riley told her how he and his Special Ops buddies had been hunting down these creatures throughout South and Central America, until one of them managed to reach California. "They're breeders," he explained, "One turns into ten. Ten become a hundred."

"So, they're like really mean tribbles." Only not nearly as cute and fuzzy, as she quickly discovered when the Suvolte made a grand entrance on a crowded street. As Buffy and Riley made their way through the panicked crowds towards the demon, Riley held up a badge and yelled, "National Forestry Service! We got a wild bear!"

The Suvolte didn't look anything like a bear, but as Buffy knew from experience, people tended to see what they wanted to see, especially when it came to run-ins with the occult. They chased the demon into an alley, where Riley managed to shoot it with a tracking device before it leapt over a wall and made its escape.

"It's too fast," Buffy grumbled.

Riley grinned, "I wouldn't necessarily say that."

He took her to his vehicle, a huge SUV—black, of course—packed with all kinds of high-tech gadgetry. A screen on the dashboard showed a map of Sunnydale with a moving blip that Buffy guessed was their tagged demon. As they tore down the nearly empty streets, Riley handed her a bundle of clothes like his.

"No offense, but this is black ops and you look like a pylon."

"Ninja wear?" she quipped.

"Battle gear. Lightweight Kevlar. State of the art."

Buffy smirked, "What a surprise."

Riley grinned, shrugged. "Boys like toys."

"You won't look?" That came out more flirtatious that she intended.

Riley replied smoothly, "I'm a gentleman."

As Buffy changed, an awkward silence fell between them. The circumstances of their breakup hung over them like a cloud, unacknowledged, but all too felt. Buffy wanted to ask what happened to Riley since he left. How did he get that scar on his face? Was there anyone in his life? She wondered what she'd say if he asked her who was in her life? Would she lie and say no, or fib about seeing a normal man? She definitely couldn't tell him about her and Spike. He'd try to stake the vampire for sure.

It was a relief when they reached their destination: the reservoir. They got out of the car and walked to the railing, peered down into the darkness far below. "Let me guess," Buffy said dryly, "Down we go?"

"Looks that way," Riley acknowledged.

"That's a big first step. So, Mr. Finn, got an extra jet-pack for a girl like me?"

"Sorry, fresh out of jet-packs." Riley uncoiled a line with a grappling hook from his belt, coiled it around the rail and secured it. "Looks like we'll have to share. This test line's built for one, so if we go together, and we're not hauling any gear—"

"I was never big on the hardware, anyway," she smiled.

"Hold on to me?"

"If that's what it takes." She hopped into his waiting arms, her petite frame hardly weighing him down. "Ready when you are, Agent Finn."

They lowered themselves down the side of the dam. Pretty much as soon as their feet touched the ground, the Suvolte attacked. The fight was quick and brutal, leaving the demon stunned on the ground and Buffy flung against the wall. Riley leaned protectively over her and a tense moment came over them as their eyes met. Fighting got them hot, it always had, and they had plenty of memories of when they'd fought together. The aftermath that took place in Riley's room. They were so swept up in those memories, they didn't notice another black-clad figure rappel down beside them. The new arrival, a tall brunette woman, approached them with a friendly, "Hey there. What exactly are you doing with my husband?"

"H-Husband?" Buffy stammered.

Riley straightened, embarrassed, and made the introductions. "Buffy, meet Sam. Sam, Buffy."

"Pleasure," Sam said.

Buffy looked over the woman's shoulder. "Demon."

Sam whirled, saw the recovering Suvolte rear up with a snarl. A feral grin appeared on her face. "Mine."

Riley and Buffy stood back as they watched the Amazonian woman battle the demon with deadly skill.

"She's good," Buffy observed.

"She's a special one," Riley agreed.

"How long have you been married?"

"Almost four months. I meant to tell you when the time was right. But she caught up to us a hell of a lot faster than I guessed possible," he smiled fondly, "She does that."

"So, you guys do this often? The whole husband-wife tag team demon fighting thing?" Small world, she thought, thinking of herself and Spike patrolling together almost every night.

"That's what brought us together. Almost feel sorry for the Suvolte."

A lucky blow from the demon knocked Sam down.

"But not quite." Riley grabbed up his modified stun-gun and rushed into the fight. Buffy stared after him for a moment, then joined in as well. A sudden anger rose up in her and she took it out on the Suvolte. She grabbed the creature's elongated head and twisted, her rage-fueled Slayer strength enabling her to snap its almost nonexistent neck. She gave the couple a triumphant look as the Suvolte's body fell at her feet. Her victory soon became puzzlement on seeing their grim faces.

"She killed it," Riley said.

"Oh, honey," Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, "That's okay."

"Okay?" Buffy echoed with a growing sense of dread, "You've been tracking this thing for two days and...you _did_ want it dead...right?"

"Lemme guess," Sam pointed at her husband with her thumb, "Captain Can-Do over here forgot to mention that this was a homing operation."

_He forgot to mention a lot of things,_ Buffy thought sourly.

"Nice to finally meet you, by the way," Sam added cheerfully, "Knife."

Riley unsheathed a long combat knife and placed it in his wife's waiting hand. "It's my fault. I should've explained," he said as Sam knelt by the demon's corpse.

"That would've saved me some...trouble," Buffy bit out.

Sam sliced open the Suvolte's belly. Not a pretty sight. "Damn. We're too late." She stood and fixed her husband with a stern glare. "Finn, how could you recruit the Slayer without filling her in on the objective? If we weren't under severe time constraints, I'd seriously think about ripping you a new one."

Riley's smile was apologetic. "Stand down, soldier."

"He's your boss, too?" Buffy asked.

Sam laughed, "Oh, he wishes." She returned Riley's knife to him, then turned to Buffy again, "We'd better regroup. Buffy, I'd hate to impose further, but you got a safe house?"

"Um, I have a house. I think it's safe. Sometimes you can't even leave." She winced at her lame quip. Of course they wouldn't know what the hell she was talking about.

"I know the way," Riley said, "And I'll fill you in, Buffy. On everything."

On the way, they called the Scoobies and had them meet at the house. They all had different reactions to Riley's unexpected return. Dawn was standoffish, still angry over his running off without so much as a goodbye. Xander was acting all chummy, while Willow was her usual warm and friendly self. They welcomed Sam with polite and curious smiles, clearly wondering what this woman was like.

As the others headed for the living room, Willow took Buffy aside. "Just so you know, I'm prepared to hate this woman any way you want."

Buffy smiled, grateful for her friend's show of solidarity. "Thanks, but no. Don't wanna seem all petty."

"Well, that's the beauty," the redhead declared, "You can't, but I can. Please, let me carry the hate for both of us."

Buffy watched Riley and Sam talking intimately, their relationship clear to anyone with eyes. She felt a surge of jealousy, not of them, but of what they had. They didn't feel the need to hide their love for each other. Why should they? They were both human.

"Go nuts," Buffy said, giving in to her pettiness. Willow beamed.

Sam and Riley brought everyone up to speed on the situation with the Suvolte. The demon had come to the Hellmouth to spawn, and now it looked like it had laid its eggs somewhere. Suvoltes were deadly from the moment they hatched. They needed to find the nest quickly.

"Any timetable on when we think they're gonna hatch?" Buffy asked.

"Hatching's not the problem," Riley answered.

Sam explained, "We think they're gonna be sold on the black market. Some foreign military powers would love to have their own Suvolte. Drop it on an urban population—"

"And it cleanses the area," Riley finished.

"Money's been exchanged," Sam continued, "There's a dealer in town, calls himself 'The Doctor.' Willow, you think you can help with a little locating spell?"

The redhead tensed. "I can't do magics. I got addicted, the way addicts do." She got up and left the room.

Sam obviously felt bad for her unintended slip-up. Riley broke the awkward silence. "Two teams. No civilians. I'll go out and look for our 'doctor.' You two find that nest."

Buffy straightened. "Me and Sam together?"

"I don't wanna be dragging down the Slayer," Sam said, "You have speed and power I can begin to—"

"Let's go," Buffy suddenly agreed. She was curious to get to know a little more about Sam without Riley around.

The two women decided to check the more isolated areas of town first. Many of them were included in Buffy's normal patrols. As she and Sam did their search, Buffy discovered that Sam's friendly, open attitude wasn't an act. She was genuinely in awe of the Slayer, and so nice Buffy hated herself for wanting to dislike her.

"Gotta tell you, Buffy, I'm a little bit intimidated. Patrolling with the real live Slayer," Sam grinned, "You're legendary. And it's not just the Slayer status I'm talking about, it's you."

"Riley talks about me?" That was a surprise, since Buffy tended to avoid even thinking about him.

"He didn't say anything for a long time, but I could tell he was ripped up inside."

Buffy looked down at her boots. "He thinks...I let him go."

Sam turned to face her. "Do you wish you hadn't?" There was no antagonism in her tone.

"I wish things were different," Buffy confessed, then blurted awkwardly, "I'm not trying to... I don't... You know."

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, Buffy," Sam shook her head in thought, "There's no bad guys in this one. The only thing that could help Riley work it out was time. Lots of time. Took him a year to get over you."

"I'm glad he's over me." Buffy meant it, too.

"So," Sam grinned, "you seeing anyone new? Someone special?"

In spite of herself, Buffy felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah, there's someone. Sometimes I think he's the only good thing that's happened to me for a while." She threw a nervous glance at the taller woman. "My friends, uh...they don't know about him."

"I won't breathe a word," Sam promised, "Better to wait 'til you know it's gonna work, right?"

"Yeah. Um, y'know what, I think we should split up," Buffy suddenly announced.

"Oh, I'm slowing you down," Sam grimaced, "I knew I would."

"No, it's... There's this guy, uh, and informant. But he's twitchy around strangers."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Cool. I'm guessin' Finn needs me about now. Probably off somewhere getting his ass kicked. Y'know how wild he gets," she chuckled, started off in a different direction, "Don't worry about Ri and me, we're good."

"I noticed," Buffy murmured.

* * *

To an observer, Spike appeared relaxed, seated on the crypt's central sarcophagus with its covering of blankets and throw pillows, reading a dogeared paperback. But he'd been reading the same page for the last ten minutes, unable to keep the words straight. He was in over his head, and he knew it.

For the last month Spike had acted as a middle man for a local dealer. All he had to do was hold the contraband at his crypt for a while until his employer was able to move it. Most of it was stolen electronics and the like, with the occasional magical artifact thrown in. It paid well, and as far as he knew nobody got hurt. But then the dealer stumbled upon a Suvolte nest, and knowing how valuable those eggs were, thought it too good to pass up. Didn't matter that the git had zero experience at dealing in weaponized demons. All he thought about was the money that would soon be rolling in.

Spike wanted no part of it. He didn't know much about Suvoltes, but the little he heard was enough to put him off. But then the dealer promised him a sum of money he couldn't ignore. "It's just one night," his employer swore, "You won't even notice 'em."

Spike should've said no. Wasn't like he needed all that money. Hell, as long as he had enough for blood, booze, and smokes, he was content. But he was doing this for Buffy. Once he had enough money saved up, she could quit that bloody awful job and go back to college like she wanted. She could pay off the mortgage on the house, take care of all the overdue bills. Maybe even start a college fund for Dawn. She could be happy again. So he said yes.

There was a familiar knock at the door and Buffy entered the crypt. She was wearing some kind of black militaristic clothes he'd never seen before. Spike thought she looked right sexy in them.

"Buffy," he set his book aside, hopped down from the sarcophagus, "Hey, now. If I'd have known you were comin', I'd have baked a cake."

"I need information," Buffy said, all businesslike.

"Well, I suppose I could be helpful...if the price is right," Spike leered.

Buffy ignored his suggestiveness. "I need to find a guy. Dealer. Calls himself 'The Doctor.'"

Spike managed to keep his expression neutral. He was a terrible liar, he knew that, but he did have some skill at evasiveness. Just so long as he didn't directly answer her questions. "Human?"

"His traffic isn't."

"Clock ticking?"

She nodded. "Whatever he's doing, he's doing it soon."

Spike's eyes roamed over her. "Soon, but not now?" he asked, voice husky.

Buffy stared at him, a strange, indefinable sadness in her eyes. "Tell me you love me."

Spike's expression softened. He'd only thought to distract her at first, but her plea tugged at his undead heart. "I love you. You know I do."

"Tell me you want me."

"I always want you," his smile turned seductive, "In point of fact—"

"Shut up." Her arms went around his neck and she dragged him over to the sarcophagus. Spike lay her down amid the blankets and pillows, and kissed her softly. As her slight fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, Spike was delighted to discover her ninja wear had Velcro fastenings. He had her undressed in no time and undid her tight ponytail so he could run his fingers through her short hair.

Buffy's eyes stayed open throughout their lovemaking. She watched the expressions of pleasure move across the vampire's face, saw the deep love in his eyes. The same love she'd seen in Riley's eyes when he looked at Sam. The same love she felt for Spike.

She tightened her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper into herself. Her fingers tangled in his white-blonde hair and she pulled him down into an intense kiss just as her climax came over her. She whimpered into his mouth, felt him shudder as he came.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips.

Spike rolled onto his side and drew her close. He pulled a blanket over them with his free hand. Buffy wrapped her arms around him, threw a leg over his, and buried her face in his chest, sighing contentedly.

Neither of them knew how long they dozed before the clang of the crypt door opening roused them. Buffy was still blinking her eyes when Spike looked up and let out a chuckle. "Well, looky here."

Buffy followed his gaze, then sat up with a gasp, clutching the blanket to her. Standing at the foot of the sarcophagus, cradling an automatic weapon, was Riley. His expression was stony, but the anger was easy to see in his hard stare.

Spike's grin was downright smug. "I don't usually use the word 'delicious,' but I gotta wager this little tableau must sting a bit. Me and your former? Must kill." He ran a possessive hand over Buffy's naked shoulder. "What can I say? The girl just needs a little monster in her, man."

Riley answered coolly, "That's not why I'm here...Doctor."

Buffy gaped. Her eyes darted between her ex and her lover. "Oh, god."

Her face burned with humiliation. She couldn't face this naked. She wrapped one of the blankets around herself, jumped off the sarcophagus, and began scrambling for her clothes.

Spike sighed in mild annoyance as Buffy scuttled to the back of the crypt to get dressed. He sat up and flung aside his own blanket, unconcerned with his own naked state. "Here I thought we'd run you out of town, mate," he said to Riley, "Last time I saw you, if memory serves, you were getting the juice sucked out of you by some undead ladies of very questionable reputation. Now, be a good tin soldier and..." He motioned at the other man to turn away.

Riley was all too happy to do so. "Where are they, Doctor?" he said over his shoulder.

Spike grabbed his jeans from the floor. "Where are what, and why do you keep calling me that?"

"Glad to be back in Sunnydale. Locals all speak English and I know who to beat for information," he smiled triumphantly, "It's all brought me here."

"Look, crew cut," Spike stood and fastened his belt, "she's not your bint anymore. And, if I can speak frankly, she always had a little thing for me even when she was shagging you."

"Nice," Riley drawled, "That's very distracting. Now, tell me, before I get unprofessional. Where are the eggs, Spike?"

Buffy returned just as Spike responded with an incredulous, "Eggs? You're off your nut. It must be those drugs they were keeping you on. I did warn you."

"Okay. We can do this the hard way, or we can do this the fatal way." Riley's fist lashed out and struck the vampire's jaw. "Where are the eggs?"

"Hey!" Buffy was angered by Riley's punch. It wasn't as if Spike could defend himself. "Look, the Doctor, i-it can't be Spike."

"No need to defend me, luv," Spike said quietly.

"Shut up!" she hissed, then turned back to Riley, "Look, it...i-it can't be, okay? H-He's too incompetent. It's just _Spike_, Riley."

"Right. Deadly, amoral, opportunistic. Or have you forgotten?" The note of disgust in his tone made the rest of Buffy's protests die in her throat. "I'm takin' this place apart until I've found that nest."

"Over my dead body," Spike growled.

Riley shoved the vampire aside. "I've seen enough of your dead body for one night, thanks." As he walked to the trapdoor leading to the lower level, he glanced at Buffy over his shoulder. "You coming?"

Buffy looked at Spike. She saw the panic in his eyes, and knew there was something down there she didn't want to see. But she had to, so she followed Riley down the ladder.

"Oh, this is...unconstitutional is what it is!" Spike grabbed a shirt, threw it on. "There's nothin' to see down there!" he shouted as he hurried after them, knowing it was too late.

Buffy stared with a sinking heart at the rows of leathery, pumpkin-sized eggs that took up a sizable amount of the floorspace. Spike arrived, barefoot and shirt unbuttoned, and said to her, "I can explain."

"We're gonna need more weapons," Riley stated in grim alarm, "Spike screwed up. You didn't keep 'em frozen, did you, Doctor?"

"You can stop calling me that anytime," Spike snapped, "If I may, the thing of it is, I'm holding these for a friend who—"

Buffy punched him, knocking him to the floor.

"Why?" she asked, the hurt and betrayal making her voice raw.

Spike got to his feet, blood oozing from his nose. "I did it for you."

Buffy gritted her teeth. "I told you I didn't want this kind of help from you."

"You think I don't know how miserable you are?" he shouted, "Tryin' to keep your head afloat, wasting your sodding life at a job you hate, just scrapin' by? I couldn't— I had to _do_ something!"

A loud crackling interrupted. The eggs began to rock.

"Save the domestic for later," Riley barked, "We gotta get out of here."

The eggs cracked, and dozens of screeching, bug-like hatchlings poured out.

"On second thought, stick around." Riley tossed his rifle to Buffy and got out his stun-baton.

Buffy stared at the weapon in her hands in dismay. "Riley I—"

"Aim high! Plenty of lead."

The three of them backed up as the horde of newborn Suvoltes scuttled towards them.

"I'm not exactly Gun Girl," Buffy snapped.

"You wanna live, learn fast," Riley countered.

Buffy held the gun in an awkward grip and immediately sent several bullets into Spike's prized LP collection.

"Those were vintage!" the vampire raged.

"These things are never useful." Buffy struck a leaping Suvolte down with the butt of the gun, then flung the weapon aside. The three of them ran for the ladder and scrambled up to the ground level.

"We need a way to contain these things," Riley yelled, "Hey!"

Spike hastily unclipped Riley's utility belt from the man's waist. Among its useful gadgets, it also held several hand grenades. Spike yanked out the pins, then flung the entire belt down the hatch. Buffy threw herself on Riley, shielding him from the explosion that followed. Dust and rocks spewed out from the trapdoor, and the ground shook beneath them. It was a lucky thing the floor didn't collapse beneath them.

When Buffy and Riley thought it safe enough to get up, they discovered that Spike was gone.

"Figures," Riley growled, "He's always been good at slipping away when his ass was on the line."

Buffy pursed her lips. She headed for the exit. "We should let the others know the eggs were destroyed."

"Buffy..."

She paused, reluctant, and turned to face him.

Riley closed the distance between them, his expression sincere. "Listen, by mission parameters, I'm done here, but I have authorization to take the Doctor out. Do you want me to do that?"

"Do I want you to... How can you ask me that?" she stared at him, appalled.

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of," Riley tried to sound gentle, but it just came off as condescending, "You're going through a rough time, and he obviously took advantage. God knows what other schemes he's had going on while you've been distracted—"

"Shut up, Riley!" Buffy's outburst stunned him into silence for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"What? You believed that stuff about him doing it for your sake?" Riley scoffed.

"Yeah, actually, I do."

"Wake up, Buffy!" Riley snapped, "Spike's an evil, soulless thing. He's just using you."

_I love him!_ She nearly screamed the words. Her mouth opened to do so. But then, suddenly, the fight went out of her and she simply turned away. It wasn't out of defeat; she just realized she didn't have to justify her relationship to him. Riley wasn't part of her life anymore.

"Buffy!"

"I'm going to the Magic Box," she yelled over her shoulder, "I'll call the others and tell them to meet us there. Then you and Sam can hop on your black ops 'copter and head back to South America or wherever." After a moment she heard him trudging after her. She imagined he was sulking at her refusal to listen to him. _Let him_, she thought peevishly.

The debriefing at the Magic Box went fairly smoothly, mostly because Buffy and Riley kept to opposite sides of the room and seldom acknowledged each other. Buffy was pretty sure Sam noticed the tension between them, but she was diplomatic enough not to say anything. Everyone said their goodbyes, then Riley and Sam were whisked away by a helicopter in a suitably dramatic fashion. Buffy watched their departure with a sense of closure. Whatever regrets she held over her breakup with Riley were now gone. He was a good man, in his own way, but he was wrong for her. Always had been. She understood that now.

On the walk home, Willow and Dawn chattered on about how good it was to see Riley again and what an amazing woman Sam seemed to be. When they got to the house, Dawn said goodnight and headed straight for bed.

"I think I might hit the hay, too," Willow yawned.

"Can you wait a sec?" Buffy asked, "I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure, Buffy." Willow sat with her on the couch. "What'd you wanna talk about?"

Buffy took a deep breath to steady herself. "It's about Spike..."

* * *

It was well past midnight when Buffy changed out of the black ops gear and went back to Restfield. As she'd hoped, she found Spike at his crypt again. He was in the ruined lower level, toeing through the wreckage with an air of resignation. He looked up at Buffy's approach.

"So, she's back. Thought you'd be off snoggin' with Soldier Boy," he muttered.

It hurt to hear that. Did he really think she'd toss him aside and go running back to Riley? Did he have so little faith in what they had? _Didn't exactly give him a reason to think otherwise,_ a condemning voice in her head told her.

"He's gone," was all she said.

"So, you come for a bit of cold comfort?" The way he said it, it didn't occur to him she _wanted_ Riley to leave. "The bed's a bit blown up, but then that was never our—"

"I'm not here to—" Buffy sighed, "And I'm not here to bust your chops about your stupid scheme, either. I should've known you'd go ahead with it, even though I said no. I should have made you promise not to. You always keep your promises to me."

Spike looked away, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"How were you gonna convince me to take the money?" Buffy asked, genuinely curious.

Spike shrugged. "Was gonna take it to these lawyers, Wolfram and Hart. They work with demons."

"I've heard of them."

"I was gonna have them set up a trust fund, make it look like it came from your mum. They would've said there was a mix-up with the paperwork and didn't find out about it 'til now."

"So I never would have known where the money really came from." Buffy had to admit, it was clever. She took a step closer to him. "Promise me you won't do something like this again. Even if you think I'll never know. Please promise me."

Spike swallowed, nodded.

Buffy touched his arm, made him turn to look at her. "I came here to tell you...that I can't do this anymore. I can't live these two separate lives—my time with you and my time with my friends—anymore."

"Oh, so this is you sayin' it's over, is it?" the forced bravado in his voice was heartbreaking, "It doesn't change what you want."

"No. I know that," she agreed, "I do want you. Being with you...makes things simpler. For a little while."

"I don't call five hours straight 'a little while,'" he tried to joke.

"I'm using you," Buffy confessed, "I'm just being weak and selfish—"

"Really not complaining here."

"And it's killing me," Buffy swallowed thickly, "Because it's not fair to you. To either of us. I don't wanna be ashamed of us anymore."

Spike stared at her, his heart breaking. He knew this would happen. Ever since Buffy told him she hadn't come back 'wrong,' that she was still human, he knew she couldn't possibly love him the way he loved her.

"I'm sorry, William," Buffy's voice was hardly more than a whisper, "I'm sorry I've been treating you like a dirty secret." Then she took a breath and said, "I told Willow about us."

Spike blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Willow knows now, so does Dawn. So there's no reason..." she held her hand out, it trembled a little, "Come home with me? I-I want you to come home with me. Please."

Spike was too stunned to move. "Y-You—"

"I love you. I want you in my life. _Completely_ in my life," she paused, uncertain, "I-If that's what you still want, too."

Her words galvanized him into moving. He lunged and crushed her petite form to him in an embrace that threatened to force the air out of her lungs. His lips peppered her face with kisses. "Oh, god, Buffy. I love you. Love you so much," he murmured between kisses.

Buffy hugged him back, just as fiercely. "Come home with me."

"Yes."

Arms wound around each other, they left the crypt and returned to the Summers house, to Buffy's room, where they shared her bed for the first of many times.

* * *

**A/N:** Probably an overly soppy ending, but what the heck. The ending of this episode always broke my heart. I like mine better. :-D


	16. Chapter 16: Hells Bells

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

'_Love seeketh not Itself to please,_

'_Nor for itself hath any care,_

'_But for another gives its ease,_

'_and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.'_

_So sung a little Clod of Clay_

_Trodden with the cattle's feet,_

_But a Pebble of the brook_

_Warbled out these metres meet:_

'_Love seeketh only Self to please,_

'_To bind another to Its delight,_

'_Joys in another's loss of ease,_

'_And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.'_

-_The Clod and the Pebble_, by William Blake

Spike hadn't lived in an actual, non-derelict house since he was human. He didn't count those weeks he spent at Giles and Xander's homes, since he was mostly a prisoner at the time. He was beginning to compile a mental list of all the advantages of house-living.

Advantage of House-Living Number One: Morning sex. On the very first day after Buffy asked him to come home with her, Spike was awakened in the A.M. by the petite blonde doing something very naughty to him under the blankets. Once he was wide awake, she rode him, her small hands braced against his chest, her eyes closed and her lips parted. By the end, Spike was more than ready to forsake his nocturnal habits if this was how he was going to start each day.

Advantage of House-Living Number Two: A hot, steamy shower. He had a makeshift shower at his crypt that tapped into the city's water lines, and while the water pressure was great, the lack of hot running water left something to be desired. Sure, as a vampire the cold didn't really bother him, but that didn't mean he _enjoyed_ icy showers. Buffy's house, however, had hot water and plenty of it. Spike could spend hours clouding up the bathroom if she'd let him.

Advantage of House-Living Number Three: Hot, steamy shower sex. That one was pretty self explanatory.

Advantage of House-Living Number Four: A roof that didn't leak.

A storm front moved in the day before the wedding. The weather forecast predicted it would continue on into the next day. Thunder rumbled and torrential rain pattered ceaselessly; what little light made it through the cloud cover was weak and gray.

"Beautiful mornin'," Spike murmured from the cozy bed.

Beside him, Buffy rolled onto her side to face him. "You would think a stormy morning's beautiful," she grinned.

"Well, yeah. Could walk out in the open without burnin' up, if I didn't mind getting a little wet."

"More than a little," Buffy said, listening to the deluge outside. "I heard it was good luck for it to rain on somebody's wedding day."

"Oh, right. Tomorrow's the big day." Spike snuggled deeper into the covers. "Have fun with that."

"What? You're not coming?"

"Wasn't invited, pet."

"_I'm_ inviting you!" Buffy sat up. "You could be, like, my date. Sort of." She winced. They'd decided not to tell Xander and Anya about their relationship until after the wedding. Buffy thought the couple was under enough stress without distracting them with this kind of news, and Spike agreed because, honestly, he didn't care if Xander knew or not. He only cared that Buffy didn't want to keep them a secret anymore.

Spike raised himself up on one elbow. "Your 'sort of date'? What does that entail?" he smirked, "Do we show up and leave at different times, have illicit trysts in the coatroom?" He reached out and toyed with a strand of her hair.

"I might be too busy for much trysting," Buffy sighed, "Xander's put me on booze watch. Gotta try and keep his relatives away from the bar 'til after the ceremony."

Spike snorted. He remembered all too well the loud, drunken fights between Xander's parents from the brief time the vampire stayed in the basement with him. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah. You should've seen them at the rehearsal dinner," she grimaced, "Mr. Harris threw up in my purse."

The vampire laughed. "Maybe I will come to the wedding. Might be entertaining seein' who's worse, the Harris family or Anya's demons."

"Oh, the Harrises, hands down." Buffy took his hand and twined their fingers. "So, you'll come?"

Spike appeared to give it some thought. "Sure. 'Sides, I'd love to see you in your bridesmaid's dress," he leered.

Buffy grimaced, thinking of the emerald-green monstrosity hanging in its garment bag from the bedroom door.

There was a tentative knock at the door. "Buffy?" Willow's muffled voice called out, "You awake? Anya's coming over soon."

"Right." Anya planned to stay at the house until the wedding while Xander stayed at the apartment, that way each could ready themselves for the ceremony without breaking tradition and seeing each other beforehand. Anya could have waited until evening to come over, but Buffy suspected the former vengeance demon was eager to get away from the future in-laws. Xander doubtless wished he had such a handy excuse.

Spike flopped down on his back as Buffy reluctantly got out of bed. "Can I bring a plus one to the festivities?" he asked.

"Like who?" Buffy queried as she dug through her lingerie drawer.

"Was thinking Clem. Not like he'll stand out, given half the guests won't be human."

Buffy glanced back at him with a smile. "Sure. I like Clem." She shut the drawer and carried her chosen undergarments to the door. "I'm gonna take a shower, then try to work up the nerve to put on that godawful dress."

Spike perked up, Advantage of House-Living Number Two coming to mind. "I could use a shower, too," he grinned suggestively, "Wanna share? Save on water."

Buffy smiled, amused. "That reasoning might've been more convincing if there weren't a monsoon going on."

"Oh, sod reason. I'm taking a shower with you." He flung off the blankets and got up. Buffy's mouth instantly watered at the sight of him. She really enjoyed the fact that the vampire didn't believe in pajamas.

"P-Put some pants on first," she forced out, "You almost gave Willow a heart attack the last time."

Spike quirked an eyebrow, then grabbed the pair of jeans he wore the night before and slipped them on.

* * *

Advantage of House-Living Number Five: Breakfast. Willow liked cooking breakfasts, omelets in particular, and Spike loved eating them. The redhead was also considerate enough to heat up a mug of blood for him so he could drink it down first thing.

"Morning!" Dawn chirped from the breakfast bar as the couple finally came downstairs, freshly washed and dressed.

"Morning, Niblet." Spike picked up the waiting mug of blood and downed it in one gulp. Then he grinned as Willow set a steaming plate in front of him.

"I made yours with extra chilis," she informed him.

"Thanks, Red!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're spoiling him," she sing-songed, though truthfully, she was thrilled her best friend had accepted the vampire as her boyfriend so readily. Once the initial shock had worn off, all Willow really cared about was that Buffy was happy.

"So, I guess you're going back to your crypt in a little while," Dawn said in obvious disappointment.

Spike swallowed a mouthful of egg and ruffled her hair with his free hand. "Just 'til after the wedding, Bit."

In the short period of time since Buffy first brought the vampire home with her, he'd pretty much moved in. Many of the possessions he managed to salvage from the wreck of his crypt could now be found here and there throughout the house. He had a whole drawer of Buffy's dresser to himself, and his shirts and jeans were hanging alongside her clothes in the closet. On second thought, there really wasn't any "pretty much" about it; he _had_ moved in.

"You're coming to the wedding, right?" Dawn asked hopefully.

"Witness Anya and the whelp chain themselves to each other for life? Wouldn't miss it," Spike smirked, "Can't think of two people who deserve each other more."

When breakfast was over, Spike put on his duster and Buffy handed him an umbrella she found in the hall closet. "So, I guess I'll see you at the Bison's Lodge," Buffy said. It was decided to hold the wedding there, since too many of the guests would find a church wedding uncomfortable.

"See you then, luv." Spike kissed her, then stepped out the backdoor and unfurled his borrowed umbrella. He smiled as he strolled unhurriedly towards Restfield Cemetery. Despite the daytime hour, he wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. He loved rainy days.

* * *

"How do I look?" Clem asked for the hundredth time, straightening the lapels of his gray suit yet again.

Spike didn't even bother glancing at his companion. "Very dashing," he muttered. His own concession to the formal occasion was to wear a black dress shirt along with his usual black jeans, boots, and duster.

Clem drove the two of them to the Sunnydale Bison's Lodge in his rattling old hatchback. The parking lot was already mostly full, but Clem managed to squeeze his car into an available parking spot. The demon and the vampire got out their umbrellas and followed the procession of wedding guests into the building. Spike suppressed a groan when he recognized Halfrek, née Cecily, just ahead of them. Apparently, she was D'hoffryn's plus one.

Dawn appeared to be on greeting duty. In spite of the hideousness of her bridesmaid's dress, Spike thought the girl looked pretty good.

"Hymen's greetings!" D'Hoffryn cheerfully declared.

Dawn blinked. "Hi-what?"

"Hymen. The god of matrimony," the demon explained. "His salutations upon you. May the love we celebrate today avoid an almost inevitable decline."

To her credit, Dawn took his strange greeting in the spirit it was intended. "Cool."

"I brought a gift," D'Hoffryn held up a plain cardboard box with a simple bow tied on and numerous holes poked into it, "I suppose there's a table."

"Oh, uh..." Dawn started to point him in the right direction, then noticed his companion, "Halfrek?"

The vengeance demon beamed at the girl. "Oh, please, call me Hallie! We're practically family now."

Dawn was less than thrilled by the idea. "Hmm. Neat." She reached for the gift. "I can put this on the table for you."

"Thank you. Ah, careful, it's—"

"Fragile?"

"Squirmy."

A green tentacle reached through one of the box's holes and started flailing around. Dawn squeaked in alarm.

Spike watched her nervously carry the suspicious gift over to the table where the other wedding presents were kept while at the same time shaking off Halfrek's attempts to get chummy. The teen brightened when she saw Spike and Clem.

"Spike!" She hurried over to welcome them.

"Hey, I want you to meet my date," Spike indicated the dog-faced demon at his side, "You remember Clem, right?"

"Hi," Clem waved a clawed hand.

"Hi." Dawn threw an amused look at the vampire.

"So, yeah, anyway, that's my date," Spike continued with a straight face, "He's with me. My date for the wedding."

The teen laughed. "Well, you two make a cute couple," she played along.

"I think so," Clem cheerfully agreed.

"Well, have a good time," Dawn pointed towards the door, "I gotta welcome a few more guests."

"Later, Niblet."

Spike and Clem started mingling. It wasn't long before Spike was bored. He didn't see Buffy anywhere and supposed she was off helping either the bride or the groom with their last-minute panics. He wandered towards the bar, thinking a drink might make the time pass easier. Someone was already seated on one of the stools. Spike recognized Xander's father. And from the looks of things, he'd already had a few.

"'Til death do us part," the man wheezed a bitter laugh, "That's what cracks me up." He tossed back his drink, slammed the empty glass down. "Hit me again, barkeep!"

The bartender looked very tempted to take his words literally.

Spike decided he wasn't that thirsty after all. He turned away from the bar and wandered through the crowd until he saw Clem chatting with a tentacled demon and two of Xander's relatives. If Spike recalled the descriptions right, they were Uncle Rory and Cousin Carol. Xander loathed his Uncle Rory, but he said Carol was alright, aside from the fact that she was desperate to land yet another husband.

At least Carol was making an attempt to be friendly. "So, circus folk. What's that like?"

"Yeah, your friend," Uncle Rory waved in the general direction of a group of demons, "the fellow with the warts, uh, went off on his circus heritage like you folks are all in some kinda cult or something."

"Well, there are ancient ways," Clem said, wracking his brain for something plausible, "Clowning, as an occupation, grew out of the _commedia dell'arte_ and, uh, ancient sports."

Spike quirked an eyebrow. Who knew Clem was a history buff?

"Well, the thing is," Rory interjected, "if you expect Xander to bring up his kids in some kind of," he waved his hand around in a supercilious manner, "foreign speaky, bow-to-the-easty kind of cult—"

The tentacled demon took issue with this. "You think the children should be raised in ignorance of our ways?"

"Oh, no!" Carol was quick to deny, "No! The Harrises are very broad-minded. We're Episcopalians."

"Toast!" Xander's father bellowed, hoisting his newly filled glass into the air. Most of the conversations stopped as the wedding guests turned in curiosity. "A toast to the Harris clan," Mr. Harris slurred, "I can see that blood, even bad blood..." He droned on, insulting every one of his relatives, then moving on to the demons so they wouldn't feel left out, "Plus, seeing the messed-up crew Anya has with her makes you guys look pretty good. And to my wife, Jessica. Where are ya, honey?"

Spike saw Rory cheerfully point her out. Xander's mother stood with a self-conscious smile on her face as all eyes turned on her.

"There she is!" Mr. Harris beamed and raised his drink, "To my wife. What would I do without you, beautiful?"

For a second, Mrs. Harris's smile was genuinely touched. Then her husband added with a venomous smile, "Well, for starters, I probably wouldn't need to drink so much, would I? On the brighter side, marriage has probably saved me from a nasty dose of the clap." He cackled.

It said a lot about the guy that even the demons were disgusted by his behavior. Mrs. Harris forced her smile to remain in place, the look in her eyes revealing years of such humiliation. Spike felt a brief stab of pity for the woman.

"Does this jerk ever shut up?" Clem growled. Spike didn't think anything could get on the affable demon's nerves, but it looked like he was wrong.

The tentacled demon (or Squid Boy, as Spike thought of him) held up his arms. "He's starting to make my suckers twitch."

"And a toast to the bride's dermatologically challenged family shrub," Mr. Harris continued.

"Sit down!" Squid Boy yelled.

"Hey, I paid for all this," Harris retorted, "You want me to sit down, you cough up a coupla grand, Squiddly."

A dangerous glint came to the demon's eyes as he stormed toward the insufferable man. "What'd you call me, you drunken piece of sh—"

That was when Buffy swept in and casually dragged Mr. Harris away from the impending confrontation. "Mazel tov! You must be so happy for Xander on his very special once-in-a-lifetime day, huh, Mr. Harris?"

Spike grinned at the sight of her. _Nice timing, luv._ He followed at a stroll, his enhanced hearing picking up their conversation.

"Nice chassis. What's under the hood?" Harris leered. Spike tensed, a scowl marring his features.

Buffy ignored the ham-handed flirting. "Y'know, I could use a strong cup of coffee. Let's get you one, too! What d'you say?"

Mr. Harris was not to be deterred. "Hey, what d'you say we slip in the back room and I show you my—"

Buffy dropped the false pleasantness. "You finish that sentence and I guarantee you won't have _anything_ to show."

Spike growled, fighting back the urge to rip the drunken sod a new one. It'd only set off his chip, anyway. Fortunately, the wanker finally got the hint and shut up.

Buffy returned a few minutes later, having left Mr. Harris to finish off a pot of coffee. She saw Spike leaning against a wall, alone, and walked over to him. Warmth rose in her when Spike noticed her approach and smiled. It wasn't like his other smiles; none of the sarcasm or cynicism. It was soft and genuine, a smile just for her.

"Hey," she smiled, "You enjoying yourself?"

"Never a dull moment," the vampire replied.

"Yeah, not when there's an open bar," Buffy winced, "Is it bad that I like the demons better than Xander's family?"

"Xander likes the demons better than his family," Spike retorted.

Buffy laughed, then groaned, "God, I'm really not looking forward to the reception."

Spike reached out, took her hand in a loose grip. "You're happy, though."

"I'm happy for Xander and Anya," she nodded.

"It's nice to watch you be happy," Spike said fondly, "For them, even. I didn't see that a lot, 'til recently. You, uh, you glow."

Buffy's smile became amused. "That's because the dress is radioactive."

Spike laughed. "It does make you look like an extra from the Emerald City. What the bloody hell was Anya thinking?"

"Honestly, I think she's been too stressed for thinking. We should definitely elope if we ever decide to get married."

A strange expression flitted across his face.

"Oh! Not that I'm saying—" Buffy's eyes widened, "I-I mean, y'know, hypothetically. Not that I _wouldn't _marry you, i-if you wanted to. Or not! No pressure! Totally pressure-free. Oh, god," she whimpered, "Shut me up, please."

Spike grabbed her by the back of the neck and yanked her into a toe-curling kiss, neither of them caring who might see. When they finally drew apart, Buffy's eyes were glazed. "Careful," she murmured, "Took me an hour to apply the make-up."

Spike huffed a quiet laugh. "God, I love you."

"Love you, too." Buffy's eyes went to a nearby wall clock. "It's almost time. I'd better go see if Anya's ready."

"Okay." Spike watched her leave, then followed the other guests as they were ushered to their seats. Spike and Clem found themselves seated on the groom's side, since they weren't part of Anya's "family." This meant, of course, that Spike was surrounded by obnoxious Harrises. If he'd known about this, he probably wouldn't have come to this bloody wedding.

People started to fidget as the minutes dragged by. Then the string quartet started to play the wedding march and all eyes turned to the central aisle...only to see Buffy walking alone. She waved frantically at the musicians, "No! No, it's, uh...it's not what you think."

She hurried over to the dais where the minister waited. She put her hand over the microphone and exchanged a few words with the puzzled minister, then she retreated back down the aisle (the idiot musicians started playing again) and disappeared in the back.

Restless murmurs arose. Mr. Harris got out of his seat and stormed over to the bar, followed by his agitated wife. Spike frowned, squeezed past Clem, and followed after Buffy. She hadn't gone far. She was hovering anxiously near the door leading to the dressing rooms. "What's going on, luv?"

Buffy pursed her lips, then leaned towards him and whispered, "Xander's missing."

"Missing?" Spike rolled his eyes, "Whelp's done a runner, has he?"

"We don't know. Willow's looking for him and Tara's keeping Anya occupied in her room. We just need to buy some time."

Cousin Carol suddenly approached. "Buffy, you gotta do something," she pointed towards the increasingly restless wedding guests.

Buffy shared a worried look with Spike, then straightened her back and marched with determination to the dais. She picked up the mic and, pasted a bright smile on her face, and asked, "So...who here's from out of town?"

Clem helpfully raised his hand.

Spike watched in a mixture of pity and amusement as Buffy valiantly tried to keep everyone distracted. She made a terrible attempt at a charades game, then she and a warty-faced demon named Kroven entertained everyone with an impromptu juggling act using lemons they took from the bar. Quite a few people applauded at that.

Then Anya's voice rang out, "What do you mean Xander's missing!"

An awkward silence fell. Then Uncle Rory laughed and declared, "It's a joke. Xander's playing a joke! It's like one time, at one of Carol's weddings, I had this ape suit."

Several demons rolled their eyes, and Squid Boy growled, "Oh, great. Another Harris family joke. Why don't you have another drink?"

Mr. Harris rose unsteadily to his feet and slurred, "Drinking is the only way I can dull the pain of looking at your ugly face."

Squid Boy got to his feet and walked right up to the belligerent drunk. "You better think real hard about this, Harris," he jabbed a tentacled hand at the man's chest.

Harris recoiled. "Don't touch me with those nasty circus things!"

The demon gave him a challenging look and jabbed him again. Harris took a swing at him, which Squid Boy easily ducked.

"That's it!" A writhing fist connected with Harris's jaw.

It was the spark that set off the explosion. Demons and Harrises leapt from their chairs and started throwing punches while Buffy watched helplessly from the stage. Spike managed to slip away from the worst of the violence. He had nothing against any of the demons, and he couldn't fight the humans because of his chip, so he had to settle for watching the melee from the sidelines. It was damned entertaining, nonetheless.

"Anya!" Buffy suddenly cried and ran towards the back of the room. Spike turned in time to see her fight off a seven-foot spike-headed demon that was attacking Anya. Spike could tell that, even with his tremendous size, the demon was no match for the Slayer, so he didn't interfere. He did grin when Buffy ripped the side of her dress to give herself better mobility, showing off a generous amount of leg in the process.

Xander burst through the door as Buffy and the demon fought. Anya ran to him, babbling frantically, "It was all lies. Whatever he showed you, it wasn't true. He just wanted to break us up."

A few well aimed kicks had the demon on the floor. Buffy scuttled as fast as her heels would allow to a nearby mounted bison head and ripped off its decorative lace veil. She twisted the veil into a makeshift cord and wrapped it around the demon's throat. Before she could strangle him, though, Xander grabbed an ornate pedestal and used it to bludgeon the demon's head into the floor.

"It's dead," he stated calmly.

"Yup," Buffy nodded.

The battle hadn't gone unnoticed by the guests. They burst into spontaneous applause, their earlier fighting forgotten. Tara, Willow, and Anya gathered over the body with Xander and Buffy. Spike sauntered over as well. "Nicely done, Harris," he complimented.

"Is anyone else waiting for it to go 'poof'?" Willow asked, staring at the corpse, "Maybe we can cover it with flowers."

Everyone started picking up their overturned chairs and straightening their clothes. Then Mr. Harris snarled, "Look at this damage. I'm not paying for this, you freaks!"

"Stop calling us freaks!" Kroven shouted, shoving him. This set everyone else off and the fighting began again.

"Stop it!" Anya's strident voice cut through the brawling, "Everyone sit down! The wedding will go on, so get back in your seats."

Reluctantly, everyone obeyed. Her tone brooked no argument.

While order was being restored, Anya and Harris had a talk by the main doors. Spike resumed his seat beside Clem, resigned to a lackluster end to an otherwise entertaining day. He was wrong, of course.

The string quartet started the music, and Anya walked down the aisle...alone. Her footsteps dragged, her arms hung loose at her sides, her face was tearstained and filled with dull despair. Even before she opened her mouth, Spike knew what she was going to say. And his undead heart went out to her.

* * *

Buffy, Willow, and Dawn were devastated. They'd changed out of their bridesmaids gowns and sat around in the living room. Dawn was slumped in a beanbag chair, while Buffy and Willow sat on the couch.

Spike had returned to the house with them. He took one look at their disconsolate faces and retreated into the kitchen. After a while, there was a whistle from the kettle, then Spike returned a few minutes later with three steaming cups of tea. It was a trait he picked up from his mum; she always made tea when he was upset. "Nothing is better than a nice, hot cuppa to chase away your sorrows," she used to say.

None of the girls thanked him, but they sipped their tea gratefully.

"Should we do something for her?" Dawn suddenly asked, "Anything?"

"She wants to be alone. That's what she wants," Willow said, "Oh, god, it just hurts my heart to think of her."

"I know," Buffy sighed, "The whole thing hurts my heart." She leaned her head on Spike's shoulder as the vampire seated himself beside her.

Dawn shook her head, struggling to understand. "I thought they were happy."

"They were," Buffy said, "I know they were. For a long time, they were my light at the end of the tunnel. But I guess they were a train."

"Why did this happen?" the teen asked.

Spike surprised them all by answering, "He thought he was protectin' her."

"From what?" Dawn frowned.

The vampire shrugged. "Himself. What he thought he'd be. Hell, he might even be right. Look at his bloody parents."

"I feel like I should be hating Xander," Willow murmured, "but I can't. I just... I just hope he's okay."

* * *

Advantage of House-Living Number Six: Being there to comfort the one you love as she cries herself to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17: Normal Again

**A/N:** The idea for this chapter just sorta popped up in my head. I thought it'd make an interesting twist. Happy reading and enjoy the weekend, everybody! :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_It must be some disease I have_

_To feel so lonely like this,_

_And not for company I see_

_The others like this, like this_

_It only makes more isolate_

_To see another like this,_

_Oh nobody like this _likes_ this,_

_Or likes another like this_

-_Like This (Young Man in an Asylum)_, by Stevie Smith

"Ready for another fun-filled night of patrol?" Buffy asked, twirling a stake in her hand. Spike surprised her by handing over a sheaf of printouts. "What's this?"

"List of all the houses and apartments that've been rented out recently," Spike answered with a smug smile, "Looked 'em up online."

"You used a computer?" she asked, incredulous.

"Oi! Just because I'm over a hundred and twenty doesn't mean I haven't kept up with the modern world."

"Okay, so why'd you look these places up exactly?"

The haughty grin returned, "One of 'em's bound to be the new lair for a certain trio of evil wannabes."

A delighted smile worked its way across Buffy's face. She laughed, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Well, you've had a lot on your plate, luv," Spike answered generously. "Care to check some of these places out tonight?"

"Yeah. Let's." She tossed the stake back into her weapons chest and followed the vampire out.

Some hours later, they'd eliminated a good portion of the list. "One more, then we call it a night," Buffy decided.

It was a fairly nondescript house in a nondescript neighborhood. They looked for the infamous black van, but the driveway was empty, and he garage lacked any windows.

"Looks kinda deserted," Buffy remarked.

"I'll check 'round back," Spike volunteered.

"'Kay. I'll get the other side."

They split up to begin peering into windows, hopefully without drawing any local attention. The last thing they needed was for someone to call the cops.

So far, there wasn't any sign of life. Spike scrutinized the house's dark interior, noting the cheap furniture that obviously came with the place, when a strange noise reached his ears. It was faint, but it sounded like some kind of droning music. A moment later, another sound reached his ears; Buffy fighting. Spike hurried around the side of the house and discovered Buffy fighting a tall demon with a face like half-melted candle wax and a ring of black tentacles fanning out from its neck. Spike felt a twinge of alarm; he knew this type of demon, and it had a certain defense he was pretty sure the Slayer was unaware of.

The demon knocked Buffy up against a car and grabbed her around the neck with one arm before she had a chance to recover. The creature lifted its other arm, and Spike saw the dim streetlight reflect off a long, thin spear of bone that emerged from its fist.

"Oh, balls." Spike dashed towards the struggling opponents, intending to grab the demon's arm before it had a chance to stab Buffy, but the creature was too fast. Spike only had a split second to shield Buffy with his own outstretched arm. The long barb penetrated his bicep—

_"—hurt yourself," one of the orderlies warned._

_ He struggled against the two men restraining him while one of them tried to keep the syringe steady. "Get off me!"_

_ "He's gonna break the needle," the other orderly said, "We're gonna have to strap him down."_

_ His limbs faltered as the drugs began to take hold. He slumped against the wall of his cell—_

"—Spike!"

His eyes cracked open. Spike found himself sprawled on the ground, his head cradled in Buffy's arms. "What happened?" he mumbled groggily.

"That waxy demon jabbed you with something and you passed out," Buffy replied, her face creased with concern, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he sat up, "I'll be fine. Better 'n you would've been if that demon's barb had gotten you." He let Buffy help him to his feet. "You get it?"

"No. It got away," she mock-glared at him, "I was a little distracted 'cause _somebody_ had to play the dashing hero."

The vampire smirked and rubbed his sore arm. "Next I'm I'll just leave you to it, then."

Buffy sighed as they started for home. "Guess this means we're on the right track, if those guys are siccing demons after us. I mean, unless that was just a coincidence."

"When's it ever coincidence?" Spike pointed out. He paused as a wave of dizziness came over him.

"You sure you're okay?" Buffy asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"No need to worry, luv," he assured her, "I've had worse hangovers. Just need to sleep it off."

His confidence reassured her more than his words did. Buffy slid an arm around his waist to gently support him. As they neared home, Spike's footsteps became steadier, encouraging her further. After all, vampires were immune to most poisons. By tomorrow Spike was sure to be back to his old self.

* * *

Spike decided to hit the demon bars the next day to see if he could pick up any info on the runaway demon. Since it was daylight, he took the sewer route. He felt alright, for the most part, if a tad light-headed. He figured he'd shaken off the worst of the venom's effects and just needed a little more time to get back to a hundred percent.

Sitting in Willy's, staring down at the scarred countertop, Spike heard somebody call his name and slowly turned—

_—to see the smiling nurse holding a small paper cup out to him. "Come on, it's time for your drugs."—_

"—Whuh?" he blinked.

Willy set the full shot glass down in front of him. "I said, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were on drugs."

Spike shook his head, somewhat disoriented. "Uh, right. Good."

The human bartender gave him a funny look, then went back to cleaning glasses.

Spike picked up the shot glass and tossed back its contents.

The rest of his day wasn't much better. Spike kept having weird flashes, almost like he was slipping into someone else's life. As night fell, he ventured out to buy himself some smokes and a couple of jars of blood. He briefly considered getting some booze as well, but decided against it. His head was foggy enough as it was.

He cut through one of the cemeteries on the way home, cradling his shopping bag of purchases in one arm, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He saw a familiar figure up ahead and smiled. "You looking for me?"

"Kind of," Buffy closed the distance between them, "Where've you been all day?"

"Here and there. Thought I'd get a few necessities." He hefted the paper bag, then set it down so he could light up his cigarette.

Buffy took a seat on a stone bench close by. "Xander's back."

"Yeah?" Spike sat down beside her. He tilted his head back to release a plume of smoke above their heads.

"Yeah, he's pretty torn up," she sighed, "He thinks maybe he and Anya can still get back together, but...he hurt her a lot, y'know?"

"Yeah, well," Spike took another puff, "Some people can't see a good thing when they've got it." He met Buffy's gaze and they shared a quiet smile.

The sound of footsteps drew their attention to Willow and Xander, who were coming towards them. Both were carrying stakes, which told Spike they were "helping" Buffy on the night's patrol.

"Spike," Xander's voice dripped with disdain, "I should've known you'd be tagging along."

Spike rolled his eyes, then flicked the remainder of his cigarette out into he dewy grass. He really wasn't in the mood for dealing with the whelp's snark. "Tell you what," he stood, picked up his shopping bag, "lemme get out of your way and stop bothering you."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but Xander beat her to the punch, "Yeah, maybe you should do that, Spike. Just run along."

It was that dismissive little wave that got to him. Spike walked aggressively up to Xander and said, "Y'know, I guess you'd know all about that. The King of the Big Exit. Really brought the house down."

Xander's expression darkened. "I don't need this crap from you."

"Right," the vampire scoffed, "Let's not listen to Spike. Might get a bit of truth on you."

Willow hastily stepped between them. "Okay, okay. Heh. Calm now. Let's, uh, turn around and release this very manly thing the other way."

"I forgot," Xander sneered, "Willy Wanna-Bite can't hurt me. Dumb to pick a fight, I guess."

Buffy had been reluctant to step in, knowing she'd likely have to choose a side if things escalated. But when she noticed the way Spike swayed on his feet a little, she worried that he was still recovering from whatever that demon had stabbed him with. "Xander," she warned.

Spike ignored her, "More than happy to beat you right through the pain, you pathetic poof." He flung the paper bag aside. Had he been in peak condition, he would've easily dodged Xander's sloppily thrown punch, but along with the dizziness and the reality flashes, his reflexes were sluggish. And so Xander's fist landed squarely on his face and knocked him down—

_—where he landed on the cell floor in an ungainly heap, the back of his head smacking against the wall._

_ "William, can you hear me?" a calming voice broke through his scattered thoughts._

_ Spike curled up in the corner. "What is this?"_

_ A man was kneeling in front of him, middle-aged, dark skin, wearing glasses and a white labcoat. "Do you know where you are, William?"_

_ Spike blinked his bleary eyes. "Sunnydale."_

_ "No," the man's denial was firm, but gentle, "None of that's real. None of it. You're in a mental institution. You've been with us now for twelve years. Do you remem—"_

—"Spike, are you okay?" Buffy crouched beside him, her features etched with worry.

"Didn't think I hit him _that_ hard," Xander said in dismay—

_"—t's okay, William," the man—the doctor—soothed, "It's okay. Look. Look who's here."_

_ A woman approached. As her features swam into focus, Spike's eyes widened in recognition._

_ "William?" the woman smiled tenderly, "Welcome home, darling."_

_ "Mum?" Spike whispered._

_ "You're really here." Tears shone in her eyes._

_ "He's lucid. Keep talking," the doctor encouraged, "Maybe the sound of your voice will ground him."_

_ "Sweetheart? I've missed you so very much. Darling, can you hear me?"_

_ Spike trembled, his vision blurred._

_ "Oh, William, stay with me, ple—"_

"—lp me get him up."

Hands gripped his arms and pulled him to his feet. Spike blinked in confusion at his surroundings. He was back in the cemetery. Buffy and Willow were supporting him on either side while Xander hung back.

"Let's get him back to the house," Buffy said.

"Why?" Xander asked, "His crypt isn't that far."

The girls threw him matching angry looks. "We're not dumping him in some cold crypt," Willow declared, "He's obviously sick."

She and Buffy started leading Spike in the direction of the house. The vampire yanked his arms free. "'M not a bloody invalid," he groused. He tried to take a step, only to almost fall over before Buffy caught him. Spike didn't resist her and Willow's help after that, though he grumbled about it the whole way.

Xander shook his head and picked up the discarded shopping bag before following. He didn't know why everybody was so chummy with the vampire lately, but he didn't like it.

* * *

They were all seated in the living room around the coffee table. Buffy sat beside Spike on the couch, silently coaxing him to finish the mug of blood she'd heated up for him after she found out he hadn't fed at all that day. She finished telling the others about their encounter with the demon. "We were checking houses on that list of rentals Spike came up with, looking for Warren and his pals. And then, bam, some kind of gross, waxy demon thing poked him."

Xander couldn't resist clarifying, "And when you say 'poke'..."

"In my arm, you git," Spike growled, "It stung me. Been havin' these flashes ever since."

"D'you know what kind of demon it was?" Willow asked.

The vampire nodded. "Yeah. It's called a Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik. Their sting causes these intense hallucinations. Pretty soon the victims can't tell reality from fantasy."

"You knew about this and you let it jab you?" Buffy accused.

"Well, I didn't know it affected vamps, did I?" he retorted, defensive, "Only ever heard of 'em attacking humans."

A morbidly curious Dawn asked, "What kind of hallucinations did you have?"

Spike sighed, rubbed his forehead. "I was in an institution. Doctors, patients, everything. They told me I was sick, and Sunnydale, all this...none of it's real."

"Aw, c'mon," Xander scoffed, "That's ridiculous! What, you think this isn't real just because of all the vampires and demons and ex-vengeance demons and the teenaged girl that used to...be a big ball of...universe-destroying energy?" His voice trailed off as the absurdity of his words sank in.

"It felt real," Spike murmured. He ran his hand over the couch upholstery. "As real as all this." He looked at Buffy and said in a quiet voice, "My mum was there."

Buffy's eyes widened. She remembered his mother from her time in Heaven. "She was?"

"Yeah. Wearing modern clothes, talking like a woman of the present day."

Buffy mulled over this information. "Does that mean..."

Spike nodded. "I'm human there."

For some reason, they all found that detail the most unnerving.

"Okay!" Willow hopped to her feet, "All in favor of research?"

A flurry of hands shot up.

"Motion passed. All right, Buffy, you and Xander hit the demon bars. Dig up any info on a new player in town, in case this isn't Warren and his buddies' doing."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut as he felt another wave of dizziness coming on.

"Dawnie, you can help me research. We'll hop online, check all the—"

_"—possibilities for a full recovery, but we have to proceed cautiously. If we're not careful..."_

_ Spike blinked and looked around. He was seated in a chair in what appeared to be the doctor's office. His mother, Anne, was in another chair beside him, and the doctor was perched on the edge of his desk, speaking earnestly to the older woman._

_ "Wait," Anne interrupted, "A-Are you saying that William could be like he was before any of this happened?"_

_ The doctor sighed, "Mrs. Pratt, you have to understand the severity of what's happened to your son. For the last twelve years, he's been in an undifferentiated type of schizophrenia."_

_ "I know what his condition is. That's not what I'm asking."_

_ "William's delusion is multi-layered," the doctor explained, "He believes he's some type of...antihero."_

_ Anne nodded, "Spike, the vampire."_

_ "Spike, right. But that's only one level. He's also created an intricate latticework to support the primary delusion. In his mind, he's the central figure in a fantastic world beyond imagination. He's surrounded himself with friends, most with their own superpowers, who are as real to him as you and me. More so, unfortunately. Together they face grand, overblown conflicts against an assortment of monsters, both imaginary and rooted in actual myth. Every time we think we're getting through to him, more fanciful enemies magically appear and..."_

_ Spike grew more agitated the longer the doctor talked. It didn't help that he couldn't seem to hold a coherent thought. It had to be the drugs they'd put him on. On hearing the word "enemies," however, he suddenly straightened from his slouch. "Enemies. Warren and those wankers. They did this to me."_

_ He tried to stand, but the doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him down. Spike snarled in frustration at his weakened body._

_ "William, it's alright," the doctor soothed, "They can't hurt you here. You're with your mother."_

_ A tremor ran though him. "Buffy..."_

_ "That's the...the girlfriend, isn't it?" his mother stammered, clearly uncomfortable._

_ The doctor nodded. "The Slayer. William inserted Buffy into his delusion to accommodate a need for a romantic bond. One which the Drusilla character couldn't truly provide." He turned to address Spike, "But that created inconsistencies, didn't it, William? You had to drastically alter your own character. Neuter yourself, essentially. Take away the things that made you powerful, invulnerable. And now, your girlfriend, Sunnydale, all of those people you created, they aren't as comforting as they once were, are they? They're coming apart."_

_ "William," Anne urged, "listen to what the doctor is saying. It's important."_

_ Spike didn't want to listen, but the doctor's voice—gentle, calming, quietly earnest—was too compelling to ignore._

_ "William, you used to create these grand opponents to battle against. And now what is it? Not gods or monsters. Just three pathetic little men who like playing with toys."_

_ Spike stared down at the scuffed toes of his trainers, the doctor's all-too-logical words causing his stomach to roil in fear—_

"—emon's name?"

Spike blinked away the haze over his thoughts. "What?"

Willow exchanged worried looks with Buffy. "I-I said, do you know how to spell the demon's name? Glar—"

"Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik," Spike muttered, "And I don't have a bloody clue how it's spelled."

"Th-That's okay," the redhead smiled nervously, "We'll figure it out."

Spike pinched the bridge of his nose and expelled a long sigh. "I'm gonna go have a lie down. Head's pounding."

"Okay." Buffy gave his arm a comforting squeeze. She watched anxiously as the vampire rose from the couch and then went upstairs to their room.

"Getting awful cozy here, isn't he?" Xander remarked, less than pleased.

Buffy didn't dignify that with an answer. "Let's get to work."

Spike slept fitfully, caught between surreal dreams and hallucinatory flashes. When he finally sat up in frustration, his internal clock told him it was past sunset. He got up from the bed he and Buffy shared and went to the window, pulled the curtains aside to gaze out at the night. He wasn't sure how long he stood there before there was a tap at the door and Willow entered.

"Good, you're awake." The redhead went to his side, proudly displaying a printout from her demon database. "Look. I found the demon. See? It is the right one, isn't it?"

Spike glanced down at the illustration with the garbled-looking caption underneath. "Yeah."

Willow smiled in relief. "It's gonna be okay. I-It's pokey stinger carries an antidote to its own poison."

Spike just continued to stare out the window. Willow's expression became concerned. "Spike?"

"Everything's...different. It seems real, but I feel detached from it all. Keep tryin' to...snap out of it." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, stared down at his hands. "I'm starting to wonder..."

"What?" Willow asked.

"What if this is the hallucination? What if those flashes are me just...waking up."

Willow shook her head. "You're confused. It's that crazy juice inside you."

"It feels just as real as this place." He rubbed the curtain fabric between his fingers, frowning in concentration. "I can't tell the difference." He let his hand drop. "Maybe I really am a nutter locked up in some asylum."

"Spike." Willow reached out to touch his arm, then hesitated and pulled her hand away. "Spike, you're not. I'm so sorry you're going through this, but it's not real. You've gotta trust me. We're gonna get you that antidote. Buffy and Xander are hunting the demon right now. It's gonna be alright. Okay?"

Spike looked at her sincere face, then slowly nodded.

* * *

"So...Spike's having the wiggins," Xander played his flashlight beam over the ghostly trees of the woods, his other hand clutching a tranquilizer gun, "Thinks we're all just figments of his twisted imagination. Pretty self-centered, if you ask me."

Buffy sighed; she was getting tired of her friend's running commentary.

"On the other hand, it'd explain a lot of things," Xander continued, "I mean, when you think about it. We've seen a lotta weird, crazy things over the last few years. Gods and giant demonic snakes, people bursting into song. Not to mention you coming back from the dead." He shrugged. "Hell, maybe we _are_ all just hallucinations, and Captain Peroxide's sitting in a padded cell, drooling all over his straightjacket." Xander smirked. "Can't think of anybody who'd deserve it more."

Buffy glanced at him briefly, then returned to her vigilant search of the forest. "I was institutionalized."

Xander stumbled and did a double-take. "Wh-What? When did this happen?"

"Before I moved to Sunnydale." Buffy chewed her lip for a moment as she dredged up the unpleasant memories. "Back when I saw my first vampires... I got so scared. I told my parents, and they completely freaked out. They thought there was something seriously wrong with me. So they sent me to a clinic." She looked at Xander again and saw his shocked expression. "I was only there a couple of weeks," she continued, "I stopped talking about it and they let me go. Eventually, my parents just...forgot."

"Jesus," Xander shook his head, "Buffy, I'm so sorry."

"Sometimes," she said in a quieter voice, "when things get really bad, part of me wonders: What if I'm still there? What if I never left that clinic?" Her shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. "Now Spike's going through the same thing. Questioning reality." She fixed Xander with a hard stare. "Nobody deserves that."

Xander opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, but then the wax-faced demon they were looking for suddenly leapt out at them. Buffy fought the demon while Xander struggled to get a clear shot with the tranq gun. It took two extra-strong darts and a partial strangulation administered by Buffy before the creature finally dropped. The pair stood over the unconscious demon, breathing heavily from the excitement.

"I altered _his_ reality," Xander grinned, "Get it? I..." His face fell at Buffy's less-than-amused reaction. "Never mind."

* * *

Dawn entered the bedroom, cradling a mug in her hands. "I heated up some blood for you."

Spike was sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard. He didn't even look up at her approach. "Not hungry."

Dawn hesitated. "I'll just leave it here in case you change your mind." She set the mug down on the nightstand. She seated herself on the edge of the bed, taking in the vampire's paler-than-usual features.

After a moment, Spike said in a distant voice, "I'm fine, Niblet."

"Yeah. The, uh, thousand-yard-stare really helps sell that." Dawn reached out a tentative hand and placed it over Spike's brow. The vampire shifted away from her.

"You're warm," the teen said, surprised, "Almost feels like normal. Which, I guess, for a vampire means you're burning up."

Spike's glassy eyes finally focused on her. He frowned a little. "Buffy's older. She should be taller 'n you."

Dawn smiled, "Maybe she's not done growing."

"Coming apart," the vampire muttered, his gaze faraway.

"What's coming apart?"

He shook his head as if trying to remember something. "Doesn't make sense. Any of it. The more I try to—"

_—"She isn't real, William."_

_ Spike was sitting up on the narrow cot in his cell. His mother sat on the edge of the bed, facing him._

_ "Dawn..."_

_ "No, luv," Anne gently gripped his knee, "Say it. It will help you believe it."_

_ Spike licked his dry lips. "D-Dawn...isn't real," he forced out, "I know. She wasn't real at first. These monks, th-they made her."_

_ Anne sadly shook her head. "It's your mind just playing tricks on you," she insisted. Her features softened in a tender smile. "Oh, darling, I've missed you so much. I only want to take you home and care for you." She ran a gentle hand across his cheek._

_ Spike stared at his mother's loving features with a pang of remembered sorrow. He'd missed her, too. He reached out—_

—and cupped the side of Dawn's face. Spike blinked in confusion, then withdrew his hand.

Dawn swallowed. "I'm not there, am I? You said it a second ago. I'm not real," her voice cracked as the anguish she'd suffered on discovering her true origins came back to her.

Spike cradled his whirling head in his hands. "No, Bit, I..."

"I have to go finish my chores." Dawn stood and abruptly left the bedroom.

Spike looked at the cooling mug of blood on the nightstand, then turned his head away and stared off into space.

* * *

Buffy and Xander wrestled the demon into the basement. Even tied up in about fifty pounds of chains, the creature was hard to hold onto.

"I'll need its arm," Willow said from where she hovered in the background.

The demon suddenly slipped their grasp and knocked Xander to the floor. "I'd like both my arms, too," he grunted.

Buffy grabbed the demon and dragged it away from her friend.

"Thanks, Buffy. I'll help when the blistering pain subsides. _Ow!_" Xander stumbled from a lucky kick from the demon. He regained his balance and hurried to help Buffy secure the demon to one of the basement's support posts.

At Willow's encouraging, Xander grabbed one of the demon's arms and stretched it out. Willow then stabbed the creature's arm with a barbecue fork and the long, venomous barb popped out. She grabbed the stinger and snapped it off, putting it into a jar she had ready.

"Okay. Xander, go to the magic shop," Willow instructed, "I'll need alkanet root and a handful of nettle leaf. Just for the medicinal properties. No magic. When you've got them, meet me at the campus lab. I'll see if I can brew up the antidote the old-fashioned way."

"I'll stay here," Buffy said as her friends headed for the stairs, "Keep an eye on the wax job."

The demon growled and struggled against its restraints.

* * *

It was morning. Spike could see the daylight glowing through the curtains. Someone must have come in to shut them and also took away the untouched blood he'd let coagulate on the nightstand. He'd lost count of the number of flashes he experienced throughout the night. Every time it happened, his grasp of reality—or what he thought was reality—slipped a little more. Now that he had the mundane world where the institution was to compare it to, his life here in Sunnydale made less and less sense. Vampires, demons, the Hellmouth, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. There was no rational explanation for any of it. And the worst part was, the idea that it was all a delusion didn't even scare him anymore.

"Spike, you awake?" Willow entered the room with a steaming coffee mug in hand, "Got yummy antidote goodness for you." She handed over the mug with a smile. "It took a little longer than I'd hoped. No magic and all. Went boom twice, but then I got it. Just, when it's cooled, drink it all down and everything should go back to normal."

Spike stared down at the mug's thick blackish contents without expression. "Cheers, Red," he thanked her dully.

Buffy appeared at the bedroom door, having made sure the demon was completely secured before leaving the basement. "How is he?"

Willow went to talk to her, "Make sure he drinks all that. I'm gonna let Dawn know that everything's gonna be okay." She flashed an optimistic smile and left the two of them alone.

Buffy walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She rested a gentle hand against his too-warm cheek. "How're you feeling?"

Spike's response was barely audible, "Lost."

"Willow always comes through," Buffy promised, "You'll be okay just as soon as you take the antidote. I'm sure it tastes better than it looks. Or smells." She wrinkled her nose.

Spike mustered a faint smile. "Could you... I'd like a minute alone, luv."

Buffy frowned slightly. "You sure?"

He nodded. "Didn't get much sleep. I wanna try and rest after I drink this," he lifted the mug for emphasis.

"Okay." Buffy leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead. "I love you."

"Love you," he murmured back. He watched Buffy close the door behind her, waited until her footsteps receded, then he held the coffee mug out over the small wastebasket by the bed and dumped the syrupy liquid—

_—"I don't wanna be here anymore," he whimpered to Anne, "I want to go home. Please, Mum."_

_ "I know, William," his mother replied, "But first you have to get better."_

_ "It's not gonna get easy, William," the doctor said, "You have to take it one step at a time. You have to start ridding your mind of those things that support your hallucinations. You understand?" The doctor explained patiently, "There are things in that world that you cling to. For your delusion, they're safe-holds. But for your mind, they're traps. We have to break those down."_

_ William ventured, uncertain, "Slayer?"_

_ "Yes," the doctor nodded, "I'm talking about those things you want there. What keeps you going back. Your girlfriend. Your friends."_

_ "They're not really your friends, William," Anne told him, "They're just tricks keeping you from getting healthy."_

_ "You have to do whatever it takes to convince yourself of that, William," the doctor urged, "Whatever it takes."_

_ William mulled over what he said, then slowly nodded—_

—Willow jumped as she rounded the corner and nearly bumped into Spike. "Whoa, I-I didn't see you. I was coming to check on you. You feeling better? Did the antidote work?"

Spike nodded, the movement somewhat sluggish. "I'm still a bit out of it, but, uh...better."

"No more cuckoo's nest?" the redhead smiled, "Well, we still have the big bad all tranqed down in the basement in case it didn't work and we need more parts." She patted the vampire's shoulder, "It'll be nice to see you all better."

Spike blinked, surprised by her caring. "Thanks."

"Hey, why don't I heat you up some blood," Willow offered, "Help clear your noggin."

Spike nodded and followed her into the kitchen.

* * *

Xander knocked on the front door before entering the house. "Hello! I'm back. Clean and with a better smell, now." He looked around the silent house. "Friends? Romans? Anyone?" He wandered into the kitchen and found Buffy washing dishes. "Hey there. Where is everybody?"

"Spike's getting some rest," Buffy said, "Dawn's getting ready to sleep over at Janice's. And I'm not sure where Willow is."

"So, did Willow get that antidote to Spike alright?" Xander asked.

"Yeah. He should be better soon," Buffy smiled.

"Great. Guess we should finish off that demon and drag it out of the basement," Xander rubbed his hands together, "Then we can send Spike on his merry way. Hate to say it, but I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost. I mean, none of this would've happened to him if he wasn't always following you around like a lost puppy. I mean, I get it, y'know. I've been a part of the Buffy obsession—"

"Xander," Buffy interrupted, setting aside the pot she was scrubbing so that she could face him squarely, "There's something I need to tell you. About me and Spike."

Xander frowned in curiosity. "What?"

"Spike and I—"

There was a muted pop and a dart suddenly appeared on Buffy's shoulder. She and Xander stared at it in shock, then the powerful tranquilizer kicked in and the petite blonde slumped to the floor. Xander spun, saw Spike aiming the tranq gun at him and quickly dodged. He grabbed a frying pan from the stack of dirty dishes and rushed at the vampire with the intent to knock him over the head, but the butt of the gun slammed into his chin and sent him crashing to the floor.

Spike reeled from the chip-induced pain that flared in his head for a moment. Once his vision cleared, he checked to make sure Xander was down for the count. He put the tranq gun down on the counter, bent down to sling the unconscious Slayer over his shoulder, then grabbed Xander's leg and dragged him over to the door leading to the basement. Xander's body thunked down the steps as Spike descended. Willow was already lying on the floor, her arms and legs bound and mouth covered by a strip of duct tape. Her wide, frightened eyes gazed at the motionless forms of her friends. Spike made short work of tying them up. He was starting to run low on rope, so he simply circled Xander's arms around one of the support posts and tied his wrists together. Satisfied, Spike returned to the kitchen and locked the basement door behind him.

Only one person left. Spike approached the stairs leading to the second floor and slowly ascended. He went to Dawn's room and pushed the door open. The startled teen turned. Seeing who it was, she put on an air of indifference, still angry at him for calling her not real earlier. "Don't you knock?"

Spike noticed the girl was packing a small bag. "Where are you going?"

Dawn closed the bag. "I'm going over to Janice's."

"You're not going anywhere, Bit," Spike said, a little unsteady.

"What do you care?" she retorted with all the disdain of angst-ridden adolescence, "You don't even think I'm real."

"You're going downstairs with the others," Spike pushed further into the room, "It's the only way I'll get well again."

Dawn frowned at him. "What're you talking about?" She grew nervous under the vampire's intent gaze. She took a step back. "Spike...you look sick."

Spike steadily closed the distance between them.

"What are you doing?" Dawn's voice rose in alarm, "What's wrong with you?"

The vampire suddenly made a grab for her. Dawn managed to slip by him and ran out the door. "Stay away from me! Buffy, help!" She ran into another room and slammed the door shut.

"You can't hide from me, Niblet," Spike called.

"Spike, you're hallucinating!"

"I know," he replied calmly, "You're just a trap for my mind."

"Spike, please listen to me," the girl pleaded, "That asylum and those people, they're not real."

Spike kicked the door open, but Dawn had circled around to the room's other door. She froze as the vampire turned and saw her. "Spike, look at me," she said, desperate to get through to him, "You're my friend. I need you and love you. Somewhere inside, you must know that's real."

"Sure it is," he stated dully, "'Cause what's more real? A sick man in an institution—"

"Don't," Dawn begged, "Please, listen to me."

"—or," he continued without pausing, "a hundred and twenty year old vampire who fights demons and helps a supergirl and her sidekicks save the world?" He stared off in the distance for a second, an incredulous smile on his face. "That's ridiculous."

Dawn slammed the door shut. Spike kicked it open with hardly a break in his stride. "A vampire who shacks up with a girl he used to try to kill? Yeah, that makes a load of bloody sense."

Dawn tried to dodge past him, but he easily cut her off. He grabbed the teen by the shoulders and wrestled her to the floor, his chip sending out warning jolts. But he knew that as long as he only restrained her, and didn't hurt her, the chip wouldn't go off.

"Spike, stop!" the girl cried as she struggled in vain against his unbreakable grip, "I'm real!"

Spike managed to pin her down long enough to get the rope out of his pocket and tie her up, then he carried her down to the basement with the others.

"Spike, please," Dawn pleaded, "You're not thinking."

He put a strip of tape over her mouth—

_—The doctor and Anne both leaned over him as he huddled on his cot._

_ "It's alright, William," the doctor soothed, "Don't stress yourself."_

_ "Darling, take your time," Anne said._

_ "Make it as easy on yourself as possible," the doctor encouraged._

_ William nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration—_

—he walked over to where the demon was still chained. Both Xander and Buffy were waking up, though Buffy was still extremely groggy from the drugs that were in her system.

"Spike?" she groaned, "What're you doing?"

Spike unhooked the chains and the demon shrugged off the restraints.

"Oh, my god." Xander's eyes widened in horror. He struggled to his feet as the demon came at him. "Buffy, get up! Help me!" He tugged at the ropes securing his wrists. "I need my hands!"

Willow and Dawn whimpered behind their duct tape gags. Buffy writhed on the floor, but in her weakened state wasn't able to break through the bonds. The demon grabbed Xander and yanked him away from the post, tearing through the ropes in the process. Xander was flung against the far wall and he toppled to the floor.

Spike kept backing up until he found himself watching from under the basement steps—

_—huddling against the wall._

_ "It's going to be alright, dear," his mother tried to reassure him, "Whatever it is, it's not real, remember?" She approached him with care, as one wood a frightened animal. "Just keep concentrating. I'm right here, luv—"_

"—ffy, help me!" Xander scrabbled away from the attacking demon. "Buffy, help!"

"I can't!" the drugged Slayer struggled.

The basement door suddenly opened and a familiar voice called, "Willow?"

Tara. She must have heard the noise.

The witch started to come down the steps and froze at the scene below. Her hand reached out, she shouted something in Latin, and the ropes tying the girls abruptly loosened. As they freed themselves, Tara chanted something else which caused a shelf to levitate across the room and crash into the demon, knocking it down.

Spike acted without really thinking. He grabbed Tara's ankle from between the basement steps, tripping her and sending her tumbling down the stairs.

"No! Tara!" Willow and Dawn rushed to the stunned witch's side—

_—"I don't know... I don't know..." William rocked back and forth as he huddled in the corner of his cell._

_ Anne knelt beside him. "William, look at me. I believe in you. You're a survivor. You can do this—"_

—Dawn screamed as the demon came after her. Xander tried to help her, only to get flung aside like a ragdoll. Then Buffy managed to shakily get to her feet and grabbed a baseball bat she found somewhere. She got between the demon and her sister and hit the creature with the bat, but her reflexes were too slow and the demon landed a punch on her that sent her sprawling—

_—"Buffy!" William cried out in anguish._

_ Anne gripped her son's shoulders. "Fight it, William. You are too good to give in. You can beat this."_

_ William's fingers tangled in his hair, his nails dug into his scalp. His cringing body rocked back and forth and he whimpered._

_ "Be strong, luv," tears welled in his mother's eyes, "I know you're afraid. I know the world feels like a harsh and lonely place sometimes. But you are not alone. You are loved, darling. Wholly and unconditionally. I have all the faith in the world in you. I will always be with you. You have a world of strength in your heart, I know you do. You only have to find it again. Believe in yourself."_

_ As she spoke, his movements gradually stilled. He slowly raised his head, a sense of peace coming over his features. He turned his clear blue eyes towards her. "You're right," he smiled weakly, "Thank you."_

_ Anne gazed at her son with love and hope in her eyes._

_ A tear worked its way down William's angular cheek. He made his choice. "Goodbye."_

_ The hopeful smile slipped from his mother's face—_

—set in determination, Spike emerged from his hiding place and rushed towards the demon as it was about to attack Willow and Tara. He slammed the demon into the wall, rained punches down on it faster than the creature could react. He then drew his arm back and put all his strength behind he final blow. His fist penetrated the demon's chest, fingers closing around its beating heart to crush the life from it. The demon's body collapsed at his feet and he stared down at it, his hand coated in its purplish blood.

Spike slowly turned to face the others. Everyone had regained their feet and appeared relatively unharmed. They all looked at him with varying degrees of wariness. Spike focused on Buffy, who seemed to be recovering a little more from the tranquilizer he'd given her. "I'm sorry."

Buffy went to him, careful with her unsteady steps. She placed her hands on either side of his face and gently pulled his head down until their foreheads touched. "We're okay," she whispered, "It's all okay."

Spike trembled.

Seeing how shaky the vampire was, a concerned Willow said, "S-Sit down. You'll fall over."

Spike moved away from Buffy and shook his head. "Can't. Not 'til I have the antidote."

"Okay. We'll make more," Willow assured him, "We'll take care of it."

"Everything's gonna be okay, Spike," Buffy promised—

_—pupils remained unresponsive as the doctor shone his penlight in William's eyes. The doctor sighed in defeat and turned to a teary-eyed Anne. "I'm sorry. There's no reaction at all," he solemnly declared, "I'm afraid we lost him."_

_ Anne buried her face in her hands and wept. William remained slumped against the wall, face blank and eyes staring at nothing._


	18. Chapter 18: Entropy

**A/N:** Not so happy, this chapter. But then, neither was the episode. :-(

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Nothing beside remains. Round the decay_

_Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare_

_The lone and level sands stretch far away._

-_Ozymandias_, by Percy Bysshe Shelley

If Spike thought experiencing the venom of the Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik was bad, the antidote was a close second. After he gagged down the syrupy liquid, his skin felt hot and his eyes sandpapery. The sensation of thousands of bugs crawling on and under his flesh almost drove him even more insane than the hallucinations had.

He soon figured out that a cold shower helped. He spent hours curled in a tight ball in the tub while icy jets of water pummeled oversensitized skin. He shivered violently, though not from the cold. He didn't even notice the cold, really. It was a reaction to the poisons breaking down in his system. The antidote was doing its work, though by no means was it gentle about it.

Buffy stayed by him the entire time. She was the only one whose presence he could stand at the moment. She stayed quiet and hardly ever touched him, kept the lights dimmed so they wouldn't hurt his eyes. Only when Spike's shivering finally stopped and he slowly raised his head from where it rested on his knees did she dare to place a hand on his arm. His skin was freezing.

"You feeling any better?" she asked in a low voice.

Spike nodded.

"Ready to get out of the shower?"

"Yeah," he rasped.

Buffy turned off the water and grabbed a towel. She helped the vampire stand on shaky legs and get out of the tub, gently dried him off, then helped him into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. She led him into the bedroom, tucked him into bed. Spike was pale and exhausted, but he did look better. He didn't have that glassy, faraway look in his eyes anymore, for one thing.

Buffy ran her fingers through his damp curls. "Get some sleep," she murmured, "I'll make sure we stock up on plenty of blood for when you wake up."

Spike smiled, his drooping eyelids falling shut. "'Kay..."

Buffy pressed a kiss to his forehead, then got up and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"How is he?" an anxious Dawn asked when she came downstairs. Dawn, Willow, and Tara were all seated around the living room. Xander was gone, having reluctantly left when reminded by the others that he couldn't skip another day at the work site. He made Buffy promise she'd tie the vampire up, just in case; a promise Buffy promptly broke once her friend was out the door.

"Shakes are gone," Buffy told her, "He's sleeping."

"Th-That's good," Willow said from the couch, "It means the antidote's working."

"Yeah." Buffy sat down in a chair, ran a tired hand through her short tresses. "Um, about what happened—"

"I-It's okay," Tara was quick to speak up, "We know it w-wasn't Spike's fault."

"Yeah," Dawn nodded agreement, "It was just that crazy juice in him. I mean, it could've just as easily been you, right?"

Buffy smiled in relief at her sister and friends. "I was worried you all wouldn't feel safe around him anymore."

"It might be a little weird at first," Willow admitted, "But I know he won't do anything like that again, now that he's no longer in Crazyville."

"Good," Buffy sighed, "Now, if we can just convince Xander of that."

Everyone exchanged sardonic looks.

* * *

A few days later Buffy caught two vampires running out from the gates of a cemetery. A hard kick knocked one of them back against the half-shut gate, giving Buffy the chance to focus her energies on the other for a moment. The first vampire had recovered and was about to join in the fight when a hand reached down from the top of the gate and yanked him up by the back of his jacket. The vampire flailed ineffectually, unable to reach his unseen attacker.

Unnoticed by any of them, on the other side of the gates, Warren and his pals crept up and snatched a metal disc one of the vamps had dropped, then ran off without anyone being the wiser.

Spike crouched atop the cemetery wall, holding the struggling vampire in place while he watched Buffy fight. Buffy was on her back, trying to hold off her opponent long enough to get back to her feet.

"How you doin'?" Spike casually asked.

"Oh, fine," Buffy kept her tone light, "Y'know, same old, same old."

"I can take care of this guy, if you want," Spike offered, sounding bored.

"Whatever. Your call." Buffy kicked the second vampire away and leapt to her feet.

"I mean, sure, he don't look like much, but I'd wager he could give you a bit of nasty. Save you the staking."

The second vampire howled as Buffy drove a stake through his chest. As she waved away the dust cloud, she looked up at Spike and shrugged nonchalantly. "No skin off my nose either way."

"Right, I'll just be dropping him down to you, then." Spike released the first vampire with a smirk. Two seconds later, the vamp was dust as well. Spike hopped down from the wall and sauntered over.

"Spike," Buffy's tone became serious, "What're you doing here? You're still recovering."

The blonde vampire scoffed, "Likely go off my nut again if I spend another night cooped up in that house. 'Sides, I think Red and the Little Bit might be more at ease without me around." He shrugged like it was no big deal, but he kept his gaze off to the side.

One of the things Buffy had figured out about Spike: just because he had no sense of guilt didn't mean he couldn't feel bad about his actions. He could still regret.

She reached out and gripped his shoulder, bringing his gaze towards her. "Look, we both know this isn't the first time you've tried to kill us," she smirked, "But at least you got the perfect get-out-of-jail-free card in the fact that you were not in your right mind this time around. My friends know that. And guess how much they hate you for it," she paused for effect, "Zero. Zero much." She frowned, then amended, "Well, Xander does, but he already hated you in the first place."

Spike smirked. "Yeah. Now he knows I'm still dangerous even with this bloody chip in my head." He looked equally proud and troubled by this fact. "He's gonna give you hell about it, you know."

"I can handle Xander." Buffy lifted her hand from his shoulder to cup the side of his face. "You sure you're feeling okay?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm _fine._ You can stop babying me."

"I thought you liked it when I babied you," Buffy teased. She put her arms around his waist and pressed her body up against his.

Spike grinned, rested his hands on her hips. "There are some definite pluses." He bent down to capture her lips with his.

* * *

Spike might not have been able to feel any guilt over the incident, but Buffy certainly could. After all, the reason Spike got poked by the waxy demon in the first place was because he was protecting her. So, irrational as it was, she felt responsible for what happened, especially where Dawn was concerned. Buffy spent an afternoon with Dawn on a Sisters' Day Out at the mall. Unfortunately, there were a limited number of places they could actually go to, since Dawn had shoplifted from just about every business in town. But still, it was nice spending time together.

The next morning, Buffy got up early to make breakfast. She might have gone a little overboard, though.

Dawn stared in bewilderment at the array of breakfast foods. Pancakes, four different bottles of syrup, a big bowl of fruit, toast, several boxes of different cereals. Spike was already seated at the breakfast bar with a coffee mug in one hand and a short stack on a plate in front of him. He looked both very pleased and highly amused by Buffy's kitchen antics.

"Uh, did we open a chain?" Dawn asked, "Are we the International House of Something?"

Buffy turned away from the stove and started transferring a fresh batch of pancakes from the pan onto Dawn's plate. "Nope. Got up early and felt like a breakfast kind of morning," she replied cheerfully, "Okay, what kind of syrup to you want on your pancakes?"

Dawn blinked, "Syrups have kinds?"

Spike chuckled and grabbed one of the syrup bottles, dumping a generous amount onto his short stack.

"Oh, also," Buffy continued, "you know, I was thinking after the mall yesterday, maybe we shouldn't go out tonight. Maybe we could stay in and—ooh, _ow_," she yanked a couple of hot toast slices from the toaster, blew on her fingers, "um, y'know, get a pizza or rent a movie?"

Dawn glanced helplessly at the smirking vampire. "Um..."

"Also," Buffy went on, "I didn't know if you had plans this weekend, but I thought maybe we could—"

"Hey, Buffy," Dawn finally interrupted, "I'm gonna be okay with the basement thing. Really." The teen smiled in understanding. She reached over and touched Spike's arm for emphasis, then sat herself down on the stool beside him. Spike paused in his chewing to smile gratefully back.

"This isn't guilt," Buffy half-lied, "I want us to spend time."

"Okay. Good. I love spending time."

Buffy's face fell. "But I'm cramping your teenage style."

"No!" Dawn blurted. Spike rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I am," Buffy insisted, "I'm the embarrassing mom who tries too hard. When did this happen?"

Spike chose that moment to speak up, "Luv, could you pass the toast?"

"Huh? Oh." Buffy brought over a plate piled high with toast slices, along with the butter dish and three different flavors of jam. Spike beamed.

"You're not the embarrassing mom," Dawn said, getting back to the conversation, "It's not that. It's just... What if, instead of you hanging out with me, maybe I could hang out with you. Why don't I come patrolling with you tonight?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows in false excitement. "Oh, and then maybe we could invite over some strangers and ask them to feed you candy."

"You guys went out patrolling every night when you were my age," Dawn reasoned.

"True," Buffy nodded, "But, technically, you're one and a half."

Dawn's expression remained deadpan.

"See, I thought a little levity might..." Buffy cleared her throat, "But, okay, also no."

Dawn suddenly turned towards the vampire. "Spike, I'm old enough to go patrolling, aren't I?"

Spike froze, butter knife poised over his toast, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced at Buffy. "Uh..."

"Don't drag Spike into this," she admonished her younger sister.

Spike's shoulders slumped in relief. He really didn't want to piss off his girlfriend by telling her what he really thought. At least, not with the teen present.

"I just...I just think I could help," Dawn said.

"I'm sure you could," Buffy replied gently, "But it's a little more dangerous than I had in mind. I work very hard to keep you away from that stuff."

"Which would be a perfectly reasonable argument if my sister was chosen to protect the world from tax audits," Dawn countered, "But, see, my sister is you, and dangerous things that want to kill me seem to find me."

"But you don't need to go looking for them," Buffy said, putting an end to the conversation, "Now, eat up. You're gonna be late for school."

Dawn sulked while she picked at her food.

Once the teen left for school, Buffy spoke up as she stacked the dishes in the sink, "Okay, spit it out."

Spike shrugged, finishing off one last piece of toast. "She's got a point."

Buffy turned away from the sink to face him, hands on her hips. "I'm not gonna deliberately take her anywhere near all those dangerous things that'll try to kill her."

"Fair enough, but she should at least learn how to defend herself." Spike leaned on the counter, his expression calm. "We both know those dangerous things don't always say in the cemeteries, luv. Sometimes they follow us home. Don't you think it'll help your peace of mind knowing Dawn'll stand some kind of chance against 'em?"

Buffy pursed her lips. She wanted to argue against it, but she knew Spike was right. They couldn't protect Dawn all the time, no matter how much they wanted to. It was only sensible that the girl know how to fight back, if it came to that. "Okay," she sighed, "I'll try to set aside some time to teach her a few moves."

"I can teach her," Spike volunteered, "My schedule's way more open than yours. We can use the training room at the Magic Box."

Buffy smiled at him in gratitude. "Thanks. I'm sure there's plenty of things you'd rather do than training a teenaged girl how to kill vamps."

"Well, I'm sure it'll win me a lotta boyfriend points," Spike grinned.

"You know what else will get you a lotta points?" Buffy tossed him a dishrag, "Helping me wash the dishes."

Spike groaned and got up from his seat. "Bloody domesticated me," he grumbled, "Made me an embarrassment to all vampire kind, you did."

"Yeah, but I make it worth your while." Buffy playfully flicked Spike's ass with a dishtowel. The vampire chuckled.

* * *

The afternoon was shaping up to be a strange one. Anya returned from wherever she'd run off to after Xander jilted her. She came by the house and she and Buffy sat out on the porch talking. Buffy thought Anya was just looking for a sympathetic ear at first, but then things started getting a bit weird, even for a typical conversation with the former vengeance demon.

"Anya, Xander's my friend. I know what he did was wrong, and if it happened to me, I'd—"

"Wish his penis would explode?" Anya interjected, "Or something equally gruesome. Gimme a for instance."

Buffy eyed her warily. "I don't really think I should."

"Did I mention the whole 'left at the altar' thing?" the currently blonde woman tried to guilt her, "Didn't leave that out, did I?"

Buffy winced, "No. Look, I know what he did was wrong. God, if it happened to me, I... It must have been torture."

"Okay!" Anya brightened, "Let's talk about torture. Guys have been running roughshod over you for years, torturing that perky little ticker. Aren't you sick of it? Don't you wish guys like that—"

"Whoa, 'guys'? There've only been four. Uh, three," Buffy hastily corrected, remembering she hadn't told Anya about Spike yet, "Three guys. I mean, that's barely plural."

"Didn't each of them rip your heart out? Don't men like that—as, to pick an example, _Xander_—deserve to be punished?"

Buffy sighed, "Anya, I know you're hurting, but—"

"What?" Anya stood up, crossed her arms, "Xander doesn't deserve to suffer for what he did, 'cause he's your friend and I'm not, right? I get it."

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. He knows what he did was wrong."

"It's just...it hurts," Anya's voice cracked, "He hurt me so much."

"I know," Buffy stood and placed a sympathetic hand on the other woman's shoulder, "Look, I-I wish that—"

"Anya?"

Both women turned to see Xander coming up the walkway, probably looking to cry on Buffy's shoulder as well.

Anya glared at her former fiancé. "Well, congratulations," she spat, "They all still love you, even after what you did to me."

Xander tried to intercept her as she stormed off, but Buffy was quick to stop him. "I have to go after her," he insisted.

"Or," Buffy countered, "in the land of the sane, you could give her some space, let her cool down."

Xander threw his hands up in frustration. "That's not Proactive Guy. That's 'sit around and watch the rest of your life turn to crap' guy."

Buffy nodded, "True, but at least Crap Guy gets to keep all of his appendages."

"And I'm supposed to what? Walk away? Shouldn't be too hard. It's what I'm good at, right?" Bitter and angry, Xander lashed out at the first thing he saw, his foot connecting with a cheesy-looking lawn gnome situated under a tree where it was easily overlooked. The ugly decoration shattered on impact and its head rolled a couple of feet away.

"Okay, see," Buffy gestured towards the destruction, "that's why a heart-to-heart is probably not your best course of action right now. You're both angry and upset and..." She paused, frowned at the busted gnome. "What the hell is that creepy little thing doing in my yard?"

She and Xander knelt down, examining the unfamiliar lawn decoration. Xander reached into the hollow head and pulled out a small black device. "Buffy."

Buffy's eyes widened; it was a camera. "Oh, my god."

"Looks like someone's been keeping an eye on all your ins and outs," Xander remarked.

"What the who?"

The carpenter smirked knowingly. "Well, let's see. Who's obsessed with Buffy? Who likes to hang out in her yard and keep an eye on her?" He quirked an eyebrow in significance. "Who's in love with you and not getting any?"

Buffy's expression darkened in rising anger. Anger at whoever the hell was sick enough to plant a camera in her yard. Anger at Xander for automatically blaming Spike, even though this clearly wasn't the vampire's style. Anger at herself for not noticing that hideous gnome sooner. She grabbed the camera from Xander's hand. "I'm gonna do some confronting."

"Can I watch?" Xander asked eagerly.

Buffy shook her head and promptly marched back into the house without another word. Xander stared at the closed door for a moment, then shrugged and and walked away. Buffy obviously needed some alone time to pull herself together.

Inside the house, Buffy found Spike watching TV in the living room. She grabbed the remote, flicked the TV off, then handed the puzzled vampire the newly discovered spy camera.

"What's this?" Spike asked.

"It's a camera," Buffy answered tersely.

"Yeah, I got that part. Why am I holding it?"

"Someone was using it to spy on us. On my house. It was stuffed in some ugly-ass lawn gnome right outside." Buffy paced back and forth as she talked, trying to work off some of the rage. "Xander thinks it's you, by the way."

"Oh, the Great Xander thinks so?" Spike drawled in sarcasm, "Shudder, gasp. It must be true." He rose from his seat, shaking his head in annoyance. "That ponce has always had it in for me. Every chance he gets, he sticks it to..." He frowned at the pacing blonde in suspicion. "You believe him, don't you," he accused.

Buffy stared at him, incredulous. "Of course I don't!"

"Then why'd you bring this to me?" He waved the camera for emphasis.

"Because I'm angry!" she yelled, "And I need to vent! You're my boyfriend. Listening to me rant is part of your job."

"Oh." Spike looked down at the incriminating device. "So...you thinking who I'm thinking, then?"

Buffy snorted, "Yeah. _Warren _and his sidekicks. Those...those..."

"Wankers," Spike growled.

"Exactly." Buffy snatched the camera from him, held it up. "I'm gonna have Willow trace back the signal from this thing. Then I'm gonna find those three idiots and I'm gonna hurt them. Then I'll hurt them again, 'cause you can't."

"Thanks, luv," Spike smiled, "It's nice to have a bird who's willing to commit violence on my behalf."

Buffy laughed in spite of her dark mood. "God, I'm sick of these guys."

"You and me both." Spike pulled her into a hug. His deft hands rubbed her back in soothing circles. He smiled as Buffy's stiff frame gradually relaxed.

"Sun's goin' down soon," Spike mentioned, "Figure while you and Red work on this camera thing, I'd go down to the Magic Box and let Anya know about me and Dawn using the training room."

"Hmm. Good idea." Buffy reluctantly drew away from the embrace. She glared at the camera in distaste. "Better go find Willow. The sooner she starts working her computer mojo, the sooner I can start kicking some nerd ass."

Spike smirked. "That's my girl."

Spike left the house soon after nightfall and walked to the Magic Box. The bell jangled as he entered the shop, bringing Anya's attention to the door. She was standing behind the counter, talking to the only other occupant in the room. Spike tensed when he recognized Cecily—or rather, Halfrek. The vampire decided it was best not to acknowledge the vengeance demon and instead addressed Anya, "Hey. I need a thing."

The shopkeeper and her friend shared a conspiratorial look, then Anya said brightly, "So, what's your pleasure?"

"Needed to ask you a favor. Actually, two favors," he replied.

"Uh-huh. Hang on." Anya took Halfrek aside and the two women began whispering secretively. It made Spike more than a little paranoid, but he knew better than to listen in on a conversation with a vengeance demon. A minute later, Halfrek headed for the door, throwing a cheeky wave the vampire's way in passing. "Good luck with that. Ta-ta!"

Spike quirked an eyebrow, then turned to Anya. "Sorry to bust up the little girls' night out."

Anya waved off the apology. "That's okay. I'm ready to do some business."

"Alright. First off, Buffy asked me to teach Dawn some self-defense moves and figured I could use the training room here."

Anya shrugged, "Fine with me."

"Second," Spike hesitated, "I'd kinda like to keep this one between us."

"Oh, I can be very discreet," Anya winked broadly.

Spike held back a sigh. "I was wondering if you had any kind of protection spell I could get for Dawn. Maybe something that'd repel any demons that might attack her."

The currently blonde woman blinked in surprise at this request. "Um, I think I might have a charm somewhere. It's nothing powerful, just sort of a keep-away for magical beings. It wouldn't be much good against the stronger demons out there, and the rest could resist the charm's power if they really tried."

"So, it's sort of like bug repellant," Spike guessed.

Anya nodded. "Yes, but anything stronger would just draw more attention to her."

"That'll work," Spike said, then muttered to himself, "Little more peace of mind."

While Anya rummaged behind the counter in search of the charm, Spike leaned against the counter and asked, "So, how're you holding up?"

The skin around Anya's eyes tightened. "Not as well as _Xander_, apparently," she practically spat the name.

Spike grunted. "From what I hear, he's pretty torn up about it."

"Not torn up enough," the jilted bride growled. She straightened and held up a fairly nondescript talisman on a necklace. "Here we go."

As she brought the charm to the cash register, Spike looked around at all the merchandise and said, "Well, you own a magic shop. Bound to be something here that can help you dull the ache a bit."

A sly glint came to Anya's eye. "Actually, yes," she ducked down behind the counter again, "Giles left a couple of supplies here that I think just might help. Eases the hurt. Makes the sun shine a little brighter. Even makes boring people seem more interesting. Ah! Here." She set an almost full bottle of Jack Daniels down between them. "Care to join me?" she asked with a coquettish smile.

Spike eyed the whiskey and grinned.

* * *

"So then Dru says," he tossed back another shot, "'We can still be friends.'"

Anya winced. "Ouch. Even _I_ know better than to say something like that."

The level of whiskey in the bottle had diminished significantly over the last hour, and now the two of them were commiserating over their failed relationships, Spike with Drusilla, Anya with Xander.

"Yeah, well, turns out I was better off without the crazy bint," Spike smirked.

"Right. But getting back to Xander—"

"Xander," Spike scoffed, "Let's not waste any more breath on that wanker." He waved a dismissive hand.

"But he made a fool of me!" Anya cried, "And _nobody_ seems to care enough to do anything."

"I care. What he done to you," he shook his head, "I've never stooped that low. And I'm 'an evil, soulless thing,' according to some people," Spike muttered, quoting Riley. He hated when people used that phrase against him, even if it was technically true.

"Shouldn't he pay?" Anya pressed, "Don't you wish he had to pay in some horrible way?"

"Absolutely." Spike picked up the bottle and carried it over to the table where they'd be more comfortable sitting down. "Take him on myself, if it wasn't for my little handicap." He pointed at his head.

Anya took the chair beside him. "So, hypothetically, what do you wish you could do to him?"

"You name it, pet," he poured them each another drink, "You're the wronged party. Something, ah...gruesome, I'll bet." He and Anya downed their shots.

"The thing about it is," Anya said a little while (and a few drinks) later, "none of this was my idea. I didn't _ask_ to be human."

"Right. And I didn't ask for this bloody chip in my head," Spike agreed.

"Tell you the truth, all I wanted was to use him and lose him. I hadn't had a good tumble in a thousand years." Anya sighed and sipped at her drink.

"Me too," Spike reminisced, thinking of his and Buffy's volatile beginnings, "The using part, I mean. I just wanted to know what I was missing, move on."

"Yeah. Then he was...all bumpy...in the right places," Anya had a faraway look in her eyes, "And nice to me."

Spike smiled in fond remembrance. "She was so raw. I never felt anything like it."

"Next thing you know, I'm changing to please him. _I_ care if _he_ cares!"

Spike nodded, thinking of why he'd stopped by the Magic Box in the first place. A bloody protective charm for Dawn. A couple of years ago, he wouldn't have given a damn if the girl lived or died. Granted, she technically didn't exist a couple of years ago, but still...

"And I'm off my guard," Anya continued, unaware of the vampire's thoughts, "Happy. I'm singing in the shower, doing my sexy dance!"

"Exactly," Spike caught himself, "I, uh, have no dance."

"I mean, I did _everything_ for that man!" she declared, her words becoming a bit slurred, "Was it ever enough?"

Spike nodded, a frown appearing on his brow. "I'm always going above and beyond," he grumbled, "I've saved the Scoobies how many times? And I can't stand the lot of you."

"Me either!" Anya threw up her hands, "I _hate_ us! Everybody's so _nice_." She grimaced at the word. "Nobody says what's on their mind."

"You do," Spike said, "That's why you're the only one I wouldn't bite if I had the chance."

Anya was genuinely touched by this. "Really?"

"Absolutely. I have nothing but respect for a woman who's forthright. Drusilla was always straightforward. Didn't have a single buggering clue about what was going on in front of her, but she was straightforward about it. That was a virtue." Buffy could be forthright as well, when she wasn't fretting about what her friends might think. A doting, slightly dopey smile stretched across the vampire's face as he recalled some of the conversations they had while on patrol, or in his crypt, or in bed...

He blinked when Anya's voice broke into his reverie. "Xander didn't think so. He thought I was rude."

It took Spike a second to remember what they were talking about. He must have been drunker than he thought. "That's because he's one of them," he said, "Uptight. Repressed."

"You think?" she asked, hopeful.

"Please!" he snorted, "It's no wonder he couldn't deal with the likes of you and me, luv. We should've been dead hundreds of years ago. And we're the only ones who are really alive." He reached for the bottle, saw there was just enough for one more shot. He poured it out, then offered the glass to Anya. "Here. Ladies last."

Anya smiled in a melancholy way. "Thank you."

"Take it quick, or my chivalry'll run out."

She touched his outstretched hand. "No. Thank you. It's just...the first time since... It just feels good to be with someone who understands."

Spike set the glass down on the table, a rueful smile on his face as he thought of Drusilla's cruel abandonment. "Intimately."

"This whole time I've been coming on all hellbent and mad, wanting his head, y'know? When really," she bit her lip to stop its trembling, "I...can't sleep at night...thinking that it has to be my fault, somehow."

Spike gazed at her in empathy. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Shh."

"What if he was just pretending?" Anya all but sobbed, "What if he never wanted me the way I wanted him?"

"No, hey," Spike moved his hand from her shoulder to gently cup the side of her face, "He would have to be more than the git he is, Anya. He'd have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to want a woman like you."

A tear slipped from her eye. "Then why?"

Spike shook his head. "He's weak is all." He smiled, ran his thumb across her cheek. "Tell you what, though. He'll miss the water now that the well's gone dry."

A flush spread across her cheeks at his words. "Too hot to handle," she whispered.

"Too hot," the vampire agreed.

* * *

It took a while, but Willow was able to trace back the camera to its network, and she discovered there were other cameras. The Doublemeat Palace, The Bronze, Willow's classes, Xander's site, all were being watched by the Trio, probably for months.

"I can tell there are more feeds," Willow said, frowning at the computer screen, "Just having a harder time pinpointing them." Her fingers flew across the keys.

Buffy sat with her fists clenched, her rage growing with each passing minute. It wasn't enough that those three assholes kept harassing her with their idiotic schemes, now they were violating her privacy! Oh, god, what if they'd managed to plant their cameras inside the house? In her room? In _Dawn's_ room! Buffy jumped to her feet and paced the room like a caged tiger. Xander eyed her warily and kept quiet, not wanting to be the one who made her snap.

"I want...to find...these guys," Buffy snarled.

"I think I've got one for the Magic Box," Willow muttered. Her eyes widened as an image appeared on the screen. "Whoa."

"What?" Xander got up and hurried over.

"W-Wait, Xander, no!" Willow held up a hand, but it was too late. He'd reached her side and was staring at the computer monitor.

"Oh, god..."

Worried, Buffy joined him...and felt her heart clench at the sight of Anya straddling Spike while he sat in a chair, their mouths fused together, her hands roaming over his body.

"Hey, guys," Dawn's voice startled them. None of them had heard the girl's arrival. "What's up?" She leaned over to see what they were watching.

Willow's hand flew up to cover the teen's eyes. "Whoa, nuh-uh!"

"I..." Xander stammered, "What is she..."

Buffy felt her heart on the verge of breaking when she saw Spike's jerkily moving hands finally grab Anya by the waist and half lift, have shove her off of him. He stood abruptly and backed away from the woman, his hands held out, and even though there was no sound, it was easy to tell that he was telling Anya to keep her distance. Buffy closed her eyes, fighting back tears of relief. "That's enough."

Willow scrambled to cut the feed. Buffy headed for the backdoor, needing a moment outside to collect herself. Dawn followed after her sister. Xander stormed off somewhere else, a look of determined rage on his face.

Out in the backyard, Buffy sat on one of the patio chairs while Dawn hovered beside her.

"I-It couldn't have been as bad as it looked," the teen tried to reason.

"No," Buffy said, a slight rasp to her voice, "But it still hurts."

"Spike loves you," Dawn said in all her youthful earnestness, "He'd never—"

"I know," Buffy sniffed, wiped her eyes, "I know."

Willow came running out of the house. "Buffy! Xander's gone. He took your axe."

A feeling of icy dread came over her. Buffy leapt to her feet and ran for the Magic Box without a backward glance.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Spike ran a hand over his face. He could already feel a hangover coming on. Bloody vampiric metabolism. "Not your fault, pet. You're hurt and lonely, and we both got soused on Giles's good stuff." He looked at the woman sitting miserably at the table. She obviously felt rejected. "Hey," he said in a softer tone, "It's not like I wasn't interested. It's just—"

"You're already involved with someone," Anya turned her red-rimmed eyes towards him.

Spike sighed, "Yeah."

"Is it Buffy?"

The vampire blinked, then wondered why he was surprised. Anya usually saw what everyone else overlooked. "Yeah, it is."

She nodded, then smiled. "Nice to know there's still at least one decent guy out there. Too bad you're already taken."

He snorted, "Wouldn't go so far as to call myself 'decent.'"

"You could've taken advantage of me," she pointed out, "You could've cheated; Buffy never would've been the wiser. But you didn't do either of those things, and it wasn't because you were afraid of getting caught." She stood and walked over to him. "Buffy's a lucky woman." She pecked him on the cheek.

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Um...I should probably go."

"Yeah," Anya smiled, "Thanks again for listening."

Spike nodded, then made for the exit. As he stepped out the door, bell jingling softly, a flicker of movement and his enhanced reflexes were all that kept him from a nasty beheading. The axe he barely managed to dodge became embedded in the doorframe. Spike stared in shock as Xander struggled to free the weapon. Xander gave up and simply grabbed the vampire, throwing him to the ground, then pulling him up and flinging him against the side of the building. His fist plowed into Spike's stomach, doubling the vampire over.

"Get up!" Xander snarled, "You just gonna sit there? Do nothing?"

Spike glared at him, but didn't respond. Xander hauled him upright and drove his knee into the vampire's midsection. "That the kinda man you are?" he taunted.

"I'm not gonna fight you," Spike said in a calm voice that only aggravated the man further, "The chip—"

Xander kicked him in the stomach again. "Too bad!" He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a stake.

Anya came running out of the shop, drawn by the sounds of the fight. "Xander, no! Stop it!"

Spike grabbed Xander's wrist, his strength easily preventing the fatal blow from falling. While Xander struggled against the vampire's grip, Buffy arrived at a dead run and shoved Xander away from Spike. "Xander, don't!"

"What are you doing?" Anya cried.

Xander glared at his ex-fiancée. "Don't even try to deny it!" he spat in disgust, "We saw it all. The whole beautiful show."

Anya frowned in confusion. "H-How..." She rallied, tried to explain, "It was just...It was just a thing. I felt bad, and he was just there."

Spike looked at Buffy. The hurt in her eyes tore at him. "Nothing happened, luv," he said in a quiet voice.

"I know," Buffy replied, equally quiet. Xander was too caught up in his emotional upheaval to even hear them.

"So, what? You had to go out and bang the first body you find? Dead or alive?"

"Where do you get off judging me?" Anya yelled.

"When this is your solution to our problems," he retorted, "I hurt you, and you get me back. Very mature."

"No, the mature solution is for you to spend your whole life telling stupid, pointless jokes, so that no one will notice that you are just a scared, insecure little boy!"

Xander stared at her in wounded betrayal. "I'm not joking now. You let that evil, soulless thing touch you," he pointed a condemning finger at Spike, "I look at you now, and I feel sick. 'Cause you tried to have sex with _that_."

It was one putdown too many. Spike straightened and casually remarked, "It's good enough for Buffy."

"Shut up and leave her out of—" Xander fell silent at the look on Buffy's face. She never wanted him to find out like this.

"Xander..."

"I don't wanna know this," he let the stake drop from his hand, "I don't wanna know any of this." Xander turned and walked away, unable to cope with it all.

Anya threw a sad, apologetic look at Spike and Buffy, then returned to the shop. Buffy looked at Spike, angry and hurt.

"Buffy..."

"I can't..." she looked away, "I can't deal with this now. I need time. Need to get my head together."

Spike swallowed. "Do you want me to go back to my crypt?"

Buffy chewed her lip and slowly exhaled. "Just for tonight," she finally said, "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Spike nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest. "I'm sorry, luv."

"I know." She walked away, not once looking back.

Spike watched her vanish into the night, then turned and made his way towards Restfield Cemetery, feeling utterly bereft.


	19. Chapter 19: Seeing Red

**A/N:** Things take a very grim turn in this episode. The notorious "bathroom scene." The shooting. Spike's departure. My version is slightly less grim, but it's still pretty bad for our beloved characters. Sorry.

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I was angry with my friend:_

_I told my wrath, my wrath did end._

_I was angry with my foe:_

_I told it not, my wrath did grow._

-_A Poison Tree_, by William Blake

Buffy returned home just long enough to find out whether Willow had pinpointed the Trio's location yet. No joy. Those tech geeks really worked hard to cover their tracks. Buffy was too restless to wait around, so she went out on extended patrol, keeping plenty of distance between herself and Restfield Cemetery. Her emotions were still too mixed up to even think about Spike. She knew he didn't do anything wrong, but her thoughts kept returning to the footage from the Magic Box. Seeing Anya make out with him. It hurt. It dredged up all of Buffy's deep-seated fears of abandonment and betrayal. And she couldn't just shrug those feelings off or logic them away.

The sun was coming up when Buffy found herself in a familiar neighborhood. This was close to where she and Spike were attacked by that waxy demon...the night they were checking out all those recent rentals. Damn it! Why the hell didn't she think of it sooner? She ran to the very house they'd been checking out that night. The one that looked empty. She didn't bother checking it out this time. She went straight to the outer door leading to the basement and kicked it open. One look at the interior confirmed her suspicions; the nerds had been there.

"Alright, let's make this quick," she called out. She descended the stairs with a minimum of caution. The place was cluttered with all kinds of junk, most of it apparently sci-fi related. "Fine," she said when there was no response forthcoming, "But I'm not leaving 'til we have a little chat. Very little, considering the pummeling that needs to occur."

Buffy checked out a shelf full of elaborate figurines. Most of them were of scantily-clad, ridiculously well-endowed warrior women types. Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"I mean, guys, hello?" she yelled at the silent room, "Slayer, here. Did you honestly think I wouldn't find you?"

She started picking up anything that looked important; loose pages, a stack of computer discs, a couple of occultish books. She found a whiteboard and reached over to turn it so that it faced her. Written across it were two words: TOO LATE.

"Well, that can't be good."

There was a mechanical whine, and suddenly the whiteboard split in half as a huge, whirring blade sliced through it. Buffy dodged, only to find another blade coming at her. The room was full of them, like something out of an Indiana Jones movie. An ordinary human would have been killed, or at the very least severely maimed. Buffy leapt and dodged until she burst out the door in a cloud of sawdust. She glanced down at herself and discovered she wasn't entirely unscathed. Her brand new leather jacket sported a wide gash across the belly. Buffy gritted her teeth, "Okay...that's gonna cost ya."

She gathered up the salvaged items and made her way home. The second she stepped through the door, Dawn greeted her with an excited, "Tara spent the night with Willow!"

Buffy blinked. "Really?" she smiled, glad to hear that something good had finally happened. "That's great. Um, could you let 'em know we're having a Scooby meeting in the living room? I need to go change."

She dumped everything onto the coffee table, then went upstairs to put on some less buzz sawed clothes.

Buffy and Dawn were already sorting through the items she'd taken from the Trio's lair when Willow and Tara finally came downstairs. Both women were giggling and holding hands, practically glowing with happiness.

"Okay, we're here. Ready for action," Willow said, "Uh, bad guy fighting action." She and Tara laughed.

"You sure you don't want a little while longer?" Buffy asked, unable to keep from grinning at the couple.

"No. No, we're good," Willow insisted.

"Better than good," Tara added.

"Great."

"Super."

Buffy and Dawn exchanged amused glances as the two women started kissing. Buffy cleared her throat.

"So, um, nerds," Tara stammered as she and the redhead finally parted, "How are them...they?"

Buffy filled them in on finding the lair and the mishap with the buzz saws. "This is all I could save," she indicated the stuff on the coffee table, "I know it's not much, but we need to go through it and see if we can find anything that might tell us what they're doing, where they're going."

Tara picked up a book and _oop_ed in surprise when it fell in two halves. "Uh, this might take a while."

"Anything we can do to fast-forward?" Buffy asked, a tad anxious, "We really need to find Warren and the others before anyone else gets hurt."

"Should we call Xander?" Willow suggested.

Buffy grimaced, "I don't think he's really in the Scooby space. Need to give him some time. And I don't think Anya's gonna feel all that researchy, either."

"Maybe they've heard something in the demon bars about those guys," Dawn said, "D'you think Spike..."

Buffy pursed her lips as a tense silence fell over the room. "I'll check with him about it later," she finally said.

"I-I can go ask him," Dawn offered, well aware of her sister's discomfort towards the vampire at the moment.

Buffy smiled and squeezed the girl's shoulder. "Thanks, but I can't just keep avoiding him. I'll go see him later, when he's not likely to be sleeping."

"So...you're not..." the teen hesitated. At Buffy's encouraging look, she plowed ahead, "Are you breaking up with him?"

"No," Buffy answered without even needing to think about it, "Last night...it was just a speed bump. We'll be okay, Dawnie. I promise."

Dawn relaxed slightly at the reassurance. "I'm glad. You two are really good together."

Buffy looked at Willow and Tara, saw the same sentiments echoed in their faces. It brought a sense of warmth that dampened the lingering hurt.

"Thanks." She got to her feet. "You all okay with the research for now? I wanna go check on Xander, maybe work some things out."

"Go on," Willow urged, "We'll be fine here."

With a nod, Buffy headed for the door.

* * *

Xander answered the door with a beer in his hand. He stared at Buffy for a moment, then stepped aside to let her in. "I think there's still a cold one in the fridge."

"Thanks, but, uh, I think it's still a little early for me." Buffy sat in the easy chair while Xander took the couch. The silence between them was painful.

"She loves you," Buffy finally said, "You know that. Anya was just... She was hurting and-and she did this really stupid thing."

"With your boyfriend."

Buffy looked down at her hands folded on her lap.

"I know why Anya...," Xander sighed, "I understand. I do. But you?" He shook his head in disbelief, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. "All those times I told Spike to get lost...that he didn't have a chance with a girl like you."

"You don't know how hard it's been," she murmured.

"What, lying to me?"

Buffy lifted her gaze. "Being here. After I came back... You have no idea how hard it is just being here."

"You could've told me."

She shook her head, "You didn't want to know."

"So you went to him instead," he accused.

"Xander," Buffy chewed her lip, "What me and Spike have...it's not just some fling I started because I was hurting. It's more than that."

Xander scoffed, "Oh, so it _wasn't_ like, uh, 'Say, you're evil. Get on me'?"

Buffy's expression hardened. "You fought side by side with him when I was gone," she stated coldly, "You let him take care of Dawn."

"But I never forgot what he really is," Xander snapped, "God, what were you thinking?"

Buffy let out a bitter laugh, "You're asking me that? 'Cause your decision making skills have really sparkled lately."

"I'm not saying I didn't make any mistakes. But last time I checked, slaughtering half of Europe wasn't one of 'em," Xander jabbed a finger against the coffee table to stress his words, "He doesn't have a soul, Buffy. Just some leash they jammed in his head. You think he'd still be all snuggles if that chip ever stopped working? Would you still trust him with Dawn then?"

Buffy stared at him for an angry beat, then told him in a level voice, "The chip doesn't work with me."

Xander blinked. "What?"

"The spell that brought me back," she explained, "it changed me. Not a lot, but enough to fool the chip into thinking I'm not human." Buffy leaned closer for emphasis, "I've slept beside him for months. He could've hurt me or killed me anytime he wanted to. But he never did, and he never will. He loves me. I love him. And I trust him."

Xander swallowed, shocked by this revelation. "H-He doesn't have a soul," he repeated.

"Doesn't matter," she retorted, "Warren has a soul. Didn't stop him from murdering his ex-girlfriend." Buffy stood, made her way to the door. She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "I'm not asking you to suddenly start liking him, Xander. But Spike accepts the fact that you're part of my life. I really hope you can do the same for him." And with those parting words, she left her friend to his thoughts.

She went to the Magic Box next. Anya was surprised to see her, considering. "Buffy!"

"Hey, Anya. I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Um, okay," the shopkeeper's eyes darted around, "Y-You're not mad about that whole throwing myself at your boyfriend thing, are you? Because if I knew Spike was already taken, I never would've—"

"I know," Buffy gently interrupted, "There's no hard feelings. Really."

"Oh, good!" she heaved a sigh of relief, "I can tell you that I've done more than a few curses against the 'other woman' in my vengeance demon days. It's never pretty."

"I'm sure it isn't. But it's okay, Anya. I'm not mad," Buffy assured her.

Anya smiled. "Spike's a good man. For a vampire, I mean. And for a man."

Buffy laughed a little, then nodded, subdued. "He is."

"Oh! I almost forgot." Anya picked something up from behind the counter and held it out. "Here. Spike forgot this after...y'know."

Puzzled, Buffy took the proffered item and examined it. It was a simple disc of beaten metal, about the size of a quarter, with a series of runes inscribed on it. The disc was on a chain, obviously meant to be worn as a necklace. "What is it?"

"It's a protective talisman," Anya explained, "Nothing overly powerful. It makes potentially threatening demons see the wearer as unimportant, so they ignore them. The effect can be easy to shake off, if the demon's persistent, but it should be pretty foolproof against fledgeling vampires and the like."

Buffy frowned in mild confusion. "Spike got this for me?"

Anya shook her head. "For Dawn. Actually," she winced, "I just remembered he asked me to keep it a secret. Oops."

A strange sense of peace came over Buffy at that moment. She closed her fist around the protective charm and put it in her hip pocket. "Thanks, Anya. I'll make sure Dawn gets it."

"Okay. And, um, I really am sorry for what happened."

Buffy smiled and left the magic shop with a renewed sense of purpose. She knew what her next stop would be and what needed to be said. Her feet carried her there without hesitation. It was approaching evening when she arrived.

She was somewhat surprised when her knock was answered by Clem. The dog-faced demon grinned in welcome, "Hey!"

"Um, hi," she peered up at the crypt's facade, "Am I at the right place?"

"Oh, yeah. Spike let me move in here after you and him...y'know," Clem shrugged awkwardly, "It's a lot nicer than my old place. And it's got a TV."

"Is Spike here?" Buffy asked, hopeful.

"Yeah. He's, uh," Clem glanced over his shoulder, then beckoned to her, "C'mon in."

Buffy entered the crypt, blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted to the darker interior. She saw Spike standing over by the fridge. Even though his back was turned, she knew he was aware of her.

Clem abruptly grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "Well, I'm gonna go pick up some hot wings before the _Knight Rider_ marathon. Back in a few!"

The door clanged shut at the demon's departure, leaving the couple in silence. Buffy watched as Spike filled a glass halfway with blood, then added a generous amount of vodka. She could tell from the careful way he moved that Spike was nursing a hangover. He'd probably been drinking steadily since the previous night, drowning his sorrows.

"Does it help?" Buffy asked quietly.

The vampire shrugged, "Doesn't hurt." He took a gulp of the strange concoction to fortify himself before he turned to face her. "So—"

That was as far as he got before Buffy's lips were on his, her arms wound around his neck. Spike was too startled to react at first, then he somehow managed to put the glass down without dropping it and put his arms around Buffy's slender waist. Both were left gasping when the kiss finally ended.

"Thought you wanted to talk," Spike panted.

Buffy shook her head, smiling up at him. "There's nothing to talk about."

"But..."

"It's okay," she kissed him again, "We're okay." She slid out of his embrace, took his hand and tugged him towards the door. "Let's go home."

Spike gazed intently at her. He saw that this wasn't Buffy hiding from the problem by denying its existence. For whatever reason, in the hours since they last saw each other, she'd made peace with what happened. Spike didn't know the how or why of it, but he wasn't about to argue. A broad smile split across his face as the knot of anxiety that had weighed down his stomach finally disappeared. Spike grabbed his duster from where he'd draped it over a chair, put it on, and followed Buffy out into the early night.

* * *

Unfortunately, their romantic walk home was interrupted by a couple of vampires, a male and a female. The female went after Spike, and Buffy took on the male.

Her opponent was a bit more skilled than most of the fledgelings she encountered. It made for a rather invigorating fight. "Not bad," she commented at one point, "How hard you gonna hit when you're blowin' in the wind?"

Her stake penetrated the vampire's heart an instant later. As the vamp started to dust, he leapt and managed to kick the startled Slayer in the chest. Buffy flew a good twenty feet and crashed into a tombstone, shattering it on impact. "That was rhetorical," she groaned from where she lay.

Spike finished off his own fledgeling and hurried to her side. "You okay?"

Buffy took his outstretched hand and let him pull her up. "Yeah—_Ow!_ No!" Her hands pressed against her back.

"Let me see." Spike moved behind her and lifted the back of her jacket and sweater. He hissed at the massive bruise already forming across a large swath of her back. Even with her Slayer healing, this was going to hurt for quite some time.

"Is it bad?" Buffy asked.

"Well, you're standing, so obviously nothing's broken." Spike gently lowered her clothes back in place, then coaxed her to lean against him. "C'mon. You're gonna need a long soak in a hot bath."

Buffy groaned in pain as they made their way to the house. When they stepped through the front door, Spike scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. Buffy was too tired and sore to even offer a token protest. Spike brought her to the bedroom and gently set her down. "You alright to get undressed while I run the bath?" he asked.

Buffy nodded. She looked up at him with a rueful smile. "This wasn't exactly the happy reunion I had in mind."

The vampire snorted. "Yeah. But you gotta admit, it suits us."

She chuckled as he left the room, then proceeded to slowly and painfully undress. By the time Spike returned, she'd managed to change into her bathrobe and slippers and tied her hair back in a ponytail. She let him steady her as she shuffled to the bathroom. After shutting the bathroom door, Spike helped her out of her robe. He winced at the sight of the bruises that marred her fair skin. They looked even worse than they had earlier. On impulse, Spike bent down to place a light kiss between her shoulder blades.

"Alright, luv. Nice and slow." He gently eased her into the steaming bath. Buffy moaned as the heat of the water began to soak into her abused muscles.

"Ohhh. That's good..."

Spike smiled. He knelt down beside the tub and rolled up the sleeves of his skintight black shirt, then picked up the washcloth. Buffy cracked open an eye. "What're you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing," he smirked as he added a dollop of bodywash to the cloth, "I'm washing you."

"C'n wash myself," she mumbled sleepily.

"Shh. Just relax." He ran the cloth over her body, from her neck down her shoulders, her arms, to her fingers. Then her torso—lingering for a moment at her breasts, because, hey, he was still a guy—and down her legs, to each of her feet. It was thorough and intimate, but not overtly sexual. That wasn't what she needed right now.

Buffy lay in a peaceful haze, even dozed a little bit. Her trust in him amazed Spike sometimes. If he wanted to, he could easily drain her at that moment. His fangs itched at the thought. He remembered the taste of Slayer blood, the incredible high it brought. How much sweeter would it taste when freely given? Spike leaned over her until his nose was inches from her exposed throat. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the intoxicating scent of the blood that lay just below the surface of her skin. The vampire smiled.

* * *

Xander burst through the front door, the lower half of his face caked with dry blood. "Buffy? I found Warren! Actually, my face kinda found him."

He frowned at the sight of Spike's coat draped over the bannister. He started to climb the steps when he heard a cry from upstairs, "Ow! Spike!"

Alarmed, Xander ran the rest of the way up the stairs.

Moments earlier, Buffy smiled as Spike gently kissed her neck. "Hmm, you hungry?"

The vampire chuckled. "Don't tempt me, luv. I might take you up on it."

Buffy opened her eyes and met his soft gaze. "I might let you."

Spike's expression sobered. His Adam's apple bobbed. "Let's get you out of there before you turn all wrinkly."

Buffy took both his hands and let him slowly pull her up to a standing position.

"How's your back?"

She rolled her shoulders experimentally. "Better. The bath definitely helped. I think I might even be close to normal."

Buffy confidently stepped out of the tub...only to slip as the front of her foot missed the bath mat. Her back twisted painfully as she started to fall. "Ow! Spike!"

The vampire was quick to catch her and held her upright. "Back to normal?" he quirked an eyebrow.

She flashed a rueful grin. "Maybe I spoke too soon."

The bathroom door suddenly burst open, revealing a bloodstained, wide-eyed Xander. The very naked Buffy gave a shriek of alarm as Spike hastily turned to block her from the intruder's view. "Bloody hell, Harris! Didn't anyone teach you to knock?"

Xander quickly averted his eyes, his face beet red. "Oh, god! I'm sorry, Buff—Buffy! Uh, I heard you yelling and, uh..."

"Get out, Xander!" Buffy snapped.

"Right." The mortified man grabbed the door and slammed it shut.

Spike backed away from Buffy, his broad shoulders shaking with mirth.

"It's not funny," Buffy said, though the laughter in her voice belied that statement. She picked up her robe and put it on while Spike continued to laugh.

"His face!" he snorted, "Thought he was gonna pass out for a second."

Buffy finished tying the robe's sash and went to open the door. Xander was about to start blurting more apologies when Willow came running up, oblivious to what had just taken place. "Hey, I think we finally have something!" she frowned at Xander, "What happened to your nose?"

* * *

While Xander got cleaned up, Buffy changed into some new clothes. Everyone then gathered around the dining table where Willow had set up her laptop and she and Tara had all the evidence Buffy had gathered laid out. No one said anything when Spike sat beside Buffy and held her hand, thought Xander did glower at him.

"We were able to decipher pretty much everything, except these," Willow placed several pages on the table, all of them covered in strange symbols.

"I-It isn't written in any ancient language we could identify," Tara said.

"It's Klingon," Xander informed them, "They're, uh, love poems." Everyone stared at him. He fidgeted. "Which has nothing to do with the insidious scheme you're about to describe," he added weakly.

"What have you got that doesn't rhyme?" Spike asked.

"Oh, um," Tara held up a computer disc, "This."

"It was filled with encoded blueprints and schematics," Willow explained.

"To what?" Buffy asked.

"Um, banks, armored car routes, corporate vaults," Tara shook her head, her brow furrowed, "This is big."

Willow nodded in agreement, "They're lookin' to score some serious _dinero._ We don't think they're planning just one job."

"Spree, anyone?" Spike remarked.

Buffy pursed her lips. "I-I can't cover all these at once."

"You don't have to," Willow told her, "We think there's one they may hit tonight."

"It's time sensitive," Tara added.

"Be careful," Xander warned, "Warren's gone all Mighty Mouse. Emphasis on the might."

"Good. Then I won't have to hold back."

Spike tightened his grip on her hand. "You're not at your best, luv."

"I can handle them," Buffy tried to assure him.

A muscle in Spike's cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw in frustration. He couldn't go with her. Warren and his pals were human. Spike was useless against them, thanks to the buggering chip. He abruptly rose and stormed out of the room. After an apologetic look to the others, Buffy got up and followed him. She found him pacing in the living room.

"Spike," she stepped closer to him, "I know it's hard for you—"

"You don't know," he growled, turning his angry gaze on her. His eyes were yellow-flecked, his demon struggling to get out. "You have no idea what it's like. This _fucking chip_," he smacked his fist against the side of his head, "I can feel it squirmin' in my head. Gnawing bits and chunks of steel and wires and silicon." He dropped his arm and his shoulders slumped. "It won't let me be a monster. And I can't be a man. I'm nothing."

Buffy's heart ached at the pain in his voice. She knew Spike hated the chip, but she had no idea how much anguish it really brought him. She should have. Hadn't she gone through something similar during her Cruciamentum? Losing all her power, her strength, everything that made her the Slayer? But it was only temporary for her. Spike was cursed with that chip forever.

She closed the distance between them and took his face in her hands. "You're not nothing," she told him forcefully, "You're everything. You're _my_ everything. Understand?"

Spike stared at her with pain-filled eyes. "I can't protect you."

She disagreed, "You protect me every day." She kissed him softly. "I'm gonna go deal with those three pains in our asses," she said, "And when it's over, I'm gonna find a way to get that chip out of your head."

Spike gaped. "Buffy... Bloody hell, d'you know what you're saying?"

"I know exactly what I'm saying," she insisted, "The Initiative never should've done this to you. They crippled you," her voice cracked, "And I love you too much to just stand by and let you suffer like this."

"And if I start feeding on people again?" He didn't want to ask that, but he couldn't let her go blindly ahead with her actions only to feel that she had to stake him after.

Buffy shook her head. "You won't. I know you won't."

"Buffy," Willow stood in the entryway, reluctant to interrupt, "If you wanna catch 'em in the act, you need to go now."

"We'll talk about this later," Buffy murmured, then kissed him one last time before she walked away. Spike watched her leave, caught between hope and dread.

* * *

Buffy confronted the Trio at the Wild River Adventure Amusement Park. They were robbing the armored car that was sent to ferry the park's earnings to the bank. Xander was right about Warren; the tech geek somehow gained an incredible amount of strength. But in the course of the fight, Jonathan leapt onto her back and whispered in her ear, "Smash his orbs."

Turns out, he wasn't talking dirty to her. She saw that Warren had a pouch hanging from his belt, and when she crushed the objects inside, his super strength vanished. He was just a pathetic little man again. Unfortunately, Warren had an escape plan.

"Jet packs?" Spike raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

He and Buffy were curled up on the couch together, not quite tired enough to go to bed.

"Yeah," she snorted, "Him and Andrew had them. Jonathan was gonna be their fall guy. But Andrew didn't check to see if his flight path was clear and smacked into a metal awning. Knocked himself out cold."

Spike chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest where Buffy's head rested. She smiled at the sensation. Then her expression sobered. "Spike, about what I said earlier, about your chip..." she felt him tense beneath her, "It wasn't just some heat-of-the-moment thing. I meant it. I wanna help you get it out of your head."

She was surprised when Spike sighed and said, "I don't need it taken out, luv."

"But—"

"What d'you think your friends would do if they found out I didn't have that sodding chip to hold me back anymore? They'd find a way to stake me for sure."

"No! They know you're part of the team now."

He stroked her hair. "They tolerate me as long as they think I'm harmless. It's alright, luv. I've lived with the chip this long. I can cope." He drew back just enough to kiss her forehead. "Let's go to bed."

"I'm not tired," she muttered, half-sulking.

"Neither am I," Spike leered. Buffy grinned and let him drag her to her feet and haul her upstairs to their room.

* * *

It was almost noon by the time Willow and Tara finally emerged from their bedroom. They came downstairs and went to the kitchen to scrounge up a late breakfast and found Spike removing a coffee mug full of blood from the microwave. He grinned at the two beaming women. "So, the birds are flyin' again, eh? Ain't love grand."

"Where's Buffy?" Willow asked.

Spike indicated the window with his mug. The sunlight was angled in a way that it was safe enough for him to have the blinds open. "Out back checkin' for more cameras."

"Xander!" Tara pointed, "He's back."

"Think they're making up?" Willow asked.

"I hope so," the blonde witch grinned, "That's the best part."

Out in the backyard, Xander approached Buffy as she was prodding the flowerbeds with a long stick. "Time for the Spring Poking already?"

"Just making sure there are no more evil Trio cameras," she replied.

"Can we talk?"

Buffy nodded, tossed the stick aside. The two of them went to sit on a nearby bench. They sat in silence for a moment, then Xander mused, "How did we get here?"

"Scenic route," Buffy said, "Long drive."

"The past few weeks..."

"I know," she sighed.

"I thought I hit bottom, but..." he looked at her sadly, "it hurt...that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about Spike. It hurt."

Buffy shook her head in remorse. "I'm sorry. I should've told you."

"Maybe you would have, if I hadn't given you so many reasons to think I'd be an ass about it," Xander smiled ruefully.

"Guess we've all done a lot of things lately we're not proud of," Buffy said.

"I think I've got you beat," Xander bit his lip, "I don't know what I'd do without you and Wil."

"Let's not find out."

The two friends embraced.

"I love you," Buffy murmured, "You know that, right?"

Xander suddenly tensed in her arms. "Buffy!"

The two of them jumped to their feet as Warren suddenly marched into view. He halted several feet away, radiating pure rage.

"You think you could just do that to me?" he yelled, "You think I'd let you get away with that?" An angry, unstable laugh escaped him. "Think again!"

Buffy saw the gun and, out of instinct, shoved Xander away from the line of fire. Several shots rang out, most of them going wild. As Warren started to run off, he set off a couple of parting shots behind him, not paying any attention to where he aimed. One of the bullets went through the kitchen window.

Willow jumped as something spattered across her front.

Tara's eyes widened. "Your shirt."

"Spike!" The redhead rushed to the vampire's side. Spike was slumped against the breakfast bar, his right hand pressed over his heart. The mug slipped from his other hand and shattered on the floor, leaving a large crimson stain on the tiles.

"Bloody hell..." Spike pulled his hand away from his chest. His palm was covered in blood. There was a neat hole in his shirt with more red oozing from it. "I've been shot."

"Wh-What?" Willow stammered.

"Oh, my god..." Tara was gazing out the damaged window. Willow and Spike followed her gaze and saw Buffy lying motionless on the ground, Xander crouched over her.

"Buffy," Spike gasped as the shock gave way to terror, _"Buffy!" _ He ran for the door.

"Spike, don't!" Tara yelled, "It's daylight!"

Spike flung open the door, only to reel back from the deadly sun. Willow hurried to slam the door shut again. Spike staggered to the window and stared helplessly out, unable to go to his girlfriend as she lay dying.


	20. Chapter 20: Villains

**A/N:** Getting close to the end. Just a couple more chapters and maybe and epilogue. Happy reading!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_O joy of creation_

_ To be!_

_O rapture to fly_

_ And be free!_

_Be the battle lost or won,_

_ Though its smoke shall hide the sun,_

_I shall find my love—The one_

_ Born for me!_

-_What the Bullet Sang_, by Bret Harte

She felt like she was floating. Like the only thing anchoring her to her body was a thin string. A slight tug would break it, and she'd drift free.

The ambulance screamed to a halt in front of the house. Xander was there to meet it, still clutching the cordless phone in his hand. "She's around back!"

The paramedics grabbed their gear and followed him into the backyard. Buffy lay where she had fallen. Willow was beside her, pressing a towel to her wound, while Tara hovered anxiously nearby.

"She was shot?" one of the paramedics asked.

Xander stammered, "Yeah, i-in the chest—"

"Accidental?"

"N-N-No, uh, it was a— He was trying to kill her."

Willow was quick to move out of the way as the medics got to work. One of them used a stethoscope. "Pulse is one hundred and weak. Lung sounds are wet."

"What does that mean?" Xander exclaimed, "Is she gonna..."

"You need to stand back, okay?" the other paramedic said, firm but not unkind, "If you want us to help her out, we need some space."

Buffy's head slowly lolled to the side. It took effort to keep her eyes open. She stared past the figures crouched beside her to the broken kitchen window where a familiar pale face peered out. The anguish in his gaunt features tore at her. She wanted to reach out to him, but he was so far away.

"Spike..."

She felt herself lifted and placed on a gurney. As they wheeled her away, her eyes stayed on the figure in the window until it was out of her sight. Only then did she finally let her eyes drift shut.

As the paramedics loaded Buffy into the ambulance, Xander handed his car keys to Willow. "I'm gonna ride in with them. You and Tara take my car and meet me at the hospital."

"Wh-What about Spike?" Tara stammered.

"We can find him a blanket and bundle him into the backseat," Willow suggested.

Xander looked like he wanted to argue against taking the vampire to the hospital, but the ambulance was about to leave, so he hurried into the back of the vehicle before it could go without him.

Willow and Tara ran into the house and found Spike still standing by the window, staring out at the empty backyard.

"Spike," Willow hurried to his side, "We gotta go. They're taking Buffy to the hospital." She stared in dismay at his bloodied shirt; in all the excitement, she forgot that he'd been shot as well.

"How did this happen?" Spike asked without looking at her, his voice deceptively calm.

"Xander said it was Warren," Willow answered.

Spike finally turned away from the window. Both women gasped at the sight of his vampire face. His golden eyes blazed with rage. _"Warren."_

With a snarl, Spike grabbed his duster from the back of a chair, draped it over himself, and raced out the door. Before either woman could react, the vampire had vanished down the nearest sewer manhole.

"Oh, god," Tara gasped, "Y-You don't think..."

"No," Willow shook her head, though her expression was uncertain, "The chip. He-He couldn't..."

There was nothing they could do right then. They had no way to track down the vampire, and Buffy was fighting for her life in the hospital. The two women rushed to Xander's car and Willow peeled out of the driveway.

They were almost halfway to their destination when Tara suddenly cried, "Dawn! W-We need to get her. She doesn't know."

"Right." Willow took a sharp turn and headed for the school.

* * *

Anya jumped when the door to the Magic Box was kicked open and Spike entered in a cloud of smoke. He didn't even hurry, as if the threat of incineration didn't matter. He was in full gameface, his yellow eyes glowing.

"Spike," Anya's expression was sympathetic. She could feel the desire for vengeance coming off the vampire in waves.

"I need a tracking spell," he said without preamble.

"Something terrible has happened, I know," she tried to reason, "But you don't have to—"

Spike's arm lashed out without warning and his hand clamped around Anya's neck. She gasped and clutched at his wrist while his other hand reached under the collar of her top and pulled out a distinctive blue pendant. "You're not human anymore," he growled, "So I can hurt you if you keep pissing me off. Get me that sodding spell."

Anya swallowed nervously. "Th-There are several types of tracking spell—"

"I want one that can't be fooled. Warren dabbled in magic with his pals. Might have a few tricks up his sleeve that'd confuse a tracker."

"Right. Um..." She backed gratefully away as the vampire released his hold. She rubbed her neck as she retrieved a book from the shelves. "There is one that's not commonly used, so it's not likely he'll know how to shield himself from it. But it requires a personal item from whoever you want to locate—"

Anya tensed as Spike snatched up a ceremonial dagger from one of the displays. It was purely ornamental, the blade dull, but it could still do some damage. Any watched in morbid fascination as Spike opened his shirt and dug the tip of the blade into the open wound on his chest. There was a gruesome scraping sound, then a moment later a small bit of metal was pried out. A bullet. Spike held it up with bloodied fingers.

"This is his," he stated coolly, "He meant it for Buffy. Can't get more personal than that."

Wide-eyed, Anya slowly nodded, then went back to leafing through the spell book.

* * *

Dawn hated the hospital. Hated it ever since her mother started getting the headaches that eventually led to her death. Now she was sitting in the same uncomfortable chair in the same waiting room once again while her sister was probably dying.

Tara sat to her left, with Willow beside her. The two women were holding hands. Xander returned a moment later, having spoken to one of the doctors. "They're still working on her," he said as he sat down across from the girls.

"We need to find Spike," Willow murmured, "You should've seen him. The look on his face..."

Xander nodded, solemn. "Yeah, he's gotta be on the rampage. Chip or no chip, Warren's a dead man if Spike finds him."

"Good," Dawn coldly declared.

Tara placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Dawn, don't say that."

"Why not?" Dawn scowled, "I'd do it myself if I could."

"Because you don't really feel that way," the witch gently admonished.

"Yes, I do," Dawn argued, "And you should, too. He shot Buffy. She could still die. He needs to pay."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Out of the mouths of babes."

"Xander!" Willow cried.

"I'm just saying, he's as bad as any vampire we've sent to Dustville."

"Warren's human," the redhead countered.

Dawn scoffed, "So?"

"So," Tara responded, "the human world has its own rules for dealing with people like him."

"Yeah, we all know how well those rules work," Xander replied cynically.

The witch shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't," she said in a gentle voice, "W-We can't control the universe. There are limits to what we can do. And there should be."

Xander gazed down at the worn carpet. "It's just that..." his voice cracked, "I've had blood on my hands all day. Blood from someone I love."

"And it has to stop," Tara quietly insisted, "We can't let Spike destroy himself like this. Buffy wouldn't want that."

"She's right," Willow nodded, "I-If it were any one of us out for revenge, Buffy would do whatever she could to save us."

Xander ran a tired hand through his already mussed hair. Much as he hated to admit it, Spike was part of their team. And Buffy loved him. Xander sighed, "Okay. Where do we go? He could be anywhere."

"Maybe the Magic Box has some kind of locating spell," Willow suggested.

"I could go," Tara volunteered.

"No, no," Xander shook his head, "I'm cool. I'll go."

"You should still have someone with you who practices magic," Tara asserted.

"I'll stay here with Dawn," Willow smiled at her girlfriend, "With all the stress we're under, it'd be better if I kept my distance from any kind of magics."

Tara nodded agreement.

"Let me go with you," Dawn pleaded, "I want to."

Tara smiled in sympathy and ran a hand through the girl's hair. "No, honey. It's too dangerous."

"But...it's Spike."

Xander bit back a disparaging remark. He always thought Dawn was way too naïve when it came to the peroxided vampire.

Fortunately, Willow said to the teen, "When Buffy wakes up, she's gonna want to see you first thing."

Xander was grateful to hear her say "when" and not "if." Dawn seemed to pick up on that as well. "You think so?" she asked, hopeful.

Willow reached around Tara to grasp Dawn's arm. "I know so."

Dawn bit her lip and nodded.

"Okay," Xander got to his feet, "Let's go."

Tara nodded, kissed Willow goodbye, and followed him out to his car.

* * *

Spike carried a small bowl in his hand filled with water. Floating on the water was a flat, triangular piece of wood, and sitting atop that was the bullet he dug out of his own chest. It worked like a compass, using Warren's life essence as true north. As far as Spike could tell, it was working fine.

He had to stick to the sewers at first, which limited how far he could go. But once night fell, he was free to follow the magical compass wherever it led. Spike stood at the edge of town, the distant streetlights and the glow of the moon more than enough for his golden eyes to see by. The floating bit of wood turned of its own accord until the narrow end pointed in a westerly direction, towards the woods just beyond the city limits. The vampire smirked. So, the pillock was doing a runner. He must've heard that the Slayer had survived the shooting. But it wasn't the Slayer he needed to worry about.

Spike fished the bullet and bit of wood out of the bowl and pocketed them, then he dumped out the water and put the bowl in another pocket of his duster. Unencumbered, he tapped into the vampiric speed he hadn't used in several years and raced off in the direction of his prey.

* * *

Tara and Xander entered the Magic Box to find Anya standing in the middle of the floor, waiting for them.

"If you're looking for Spike, he was here earlier. He made me help him with a tracking spell."

Xander and Tara shared a look, then Xander said, "Look, Anya, something terrible happened—"

"I know," Anya interrupted, "Buffy."

"Spike's out for blood, big time. We need to find him before he finds Warren."

"We were hoping you could help us with some kind of locator spell," Tara added.

Anya pursed her lips. " You don't need a spell. I can feel him."

Xander's brow furrowed in a puzzled frown. "You can—"

"Feel him," she repeated. "His thirst for vengeance is overwhelming. It's like a scream."

"Is that, like, leftover from your vengeance demon days?" Xander asked.

Anya shook her head. "No. Not leftover."

Xander blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah."

A painful silence descended for a moment. Then Xander forced himself to ask, "When?"

His ex threw him an irritated glare. "When do you think?"

"Um," Tara interjected, "I-If Spike's looking for vengeance, why don't you go to him? Is it because he's a man?"

"In this case, the sheer power behind his desire, his gender doesn't matter. I'd have to go to him," Anya replied, "But...he doesn't want me."

Tara's eyes widened in understanding. "He wants to do it himself."

"Yeah." Anya stared down at her shoes.

"Look, Anya," Xander interjected, "we don't have much time. Which side of this are you on?"

"If you know where he is, you can help us," Tara urged.

Anya took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I'll help. But I'm helping Spike. I owe him," she clarified. "Warren's in the woods. Spike's close to him."

* * *

Spike didn't need the tracking spell anymore; he could smell Warren's fear. The woods reeked of it. Spike's lip curled, baring his jagged fangs. "Run all night, Warren. I'll still find—"

A wooden spear suddenly erupted from his chest. Spike gazed down at it in bemusement, then toppled to the ground. Warren stood behind him, grinning in excitement over his apparent victory...until the vampire slowly got back to his feet. Spike turned to face the gaping man and smirked as he grasped the spear and pulled it out of his body with a wet slurp. "Missed the heart, nimrod."

Warren spun and hightailed it out of there. Spike tossed the spear aside and gave chase. Warren tried a couple of tricks to throw him off: a flying box that exploded, which Spike easily dodged; and a binding spell which was intended for humans and couldn't stand up to Spike's vampiric strength. Spike finally cut off the man's escape and knocked him out with a single punch. Spike's hand flew to his head as pain lanced through his skull; a small price to pay for this capture. Once the pain receded, Spike picked up the unconscious man and slung him over his shoulder.

The night was still young, and Spike had plans for this little wanker.

* * *

Anya, Xander, and Tara had been tromping through the woods for a good twenty minutes when Anya came to an abrupt halt.

"What?" Xander asked.

"Spike got Warren," Anya said, her gaze faraway.

Tara stammered in worry, "I-Is W-W-Warren—"

"He's still alive. For now," the vengeance demon assured her, "Spike's taking him somewhere."

"Where?" Xander looked around as if he might catch a glimpse of them.

Anya didn't answer at first. She closed her eyes, frowning in concentration. Finally, she looked at her companions and said, "He's too fast to chase on foot. We need to get back to the car."

* * *

"Waaaren," Spike crooned, "Wakey-wakey!"

Warren groaned and slowly raised his head, blinking away the remaining fog. He found himself upright, chained to something that felt like stone. Probably some kind of memorial, given they were in the middle of a cemetery. Spike stood in front of him, still in gameface, which made his grin all the more sinister. Warren struggled against his restrains, but couldn't budge even a little. His heart pounded in rising panic.

"You are really asking for it, you know that?"

Spike looked amused by his feeble bravado. "_I'm_ askin' for it?"

Warren's head snapped to the side at the vampire's sudden backhand. He didn't notice the way Spike winced, too distracted by his own flare of pain. He groaned, then tried to change tack, "L-Look, shooting you, that was just an accident. It wasn't personal."

"No, but shooting the Slayer, that _was_ personal. Wasn't it, Warren?" the vampire sneered, "You really got a problem with strong women, don't you? That ex-girlfriend of yours—y'know, the one you tried to make Buffy think she killed—I'd wager she wore the pants in that relationship. That why you offed her?"

Warren's features twisted in anger. "The bitch got what she deserved!"

"And you liked giving it to her."

"Oh, shut up!" the man snapped.

"You never felt you had the power with her," Spike taunted, "Not 'til you killed her. You get off on it. That's why you had a mad-on for the Slayer. She was your big 'O', wasn't she, Warren?"

Warren rolled his eyes, "Are you done yet, or can we talk some more about our feelings?"

Spike chuckled, then sauntered over to a nearby grave. It was fresh; the mound of earth had yet to settle. "Not gonna be much longer."

"'Til what?" Warren asked with a sense of dread.

Spike looked at him, his head tilted at a sly angle. "'Til, uh," he glanced at the name on the marker, "Aaron here digs himself out. He's gonna be hungry. Clawin' yourself out of the grave really works up an appetite."

Warren gave in to his terror and screamed, "_Help!_ Somebody, help!"

"Whassa matter?" Spike teased, "Thought you wanted to talk."

Warrn shook his head. "N-No."

The vampire shrugged, "Alright. I'll talk." He approached the chained man, reached into a pocket of his duster and pulled out something small and gleaming. With his other hand, Spike ripped open Warren's shirt.

"Wh-What're you doing?"

"Shh." Spike held up the small object; the bullet he'd taken from his own chest.

"Hey—I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"

"Wanna know what a bullet feels like, Warren?" Spike asked conversationally, "A real one? It's not like in the comics."

"No," Warren squeaked.

"Oh, I think you need to..._feel it_." Spike held the bullet up to Warren's chest, then pressed it into his skin with one finger. Slowly, inexorably, the weak human's flesh gave way to the pressure of the vampire's unnatural strength. The pain in Spike's skull rose steadily from a dull throb to a searing roar, but he didn't stop. He didn't stop when his vision tunneled, or when the blood began to trickle from his nose. All he cared about were Warren's agonized screams.

"Oh, god! Stop!"

"It's not gonna make a neat little hole," he murmured, "First, it'll obliterate your internal organs. Your lung will collapse. Feels like drowning."

"Please, no..."

"When it finally hits your spine, it'll blow your central nervous system."

"Please, stop! God, please!"

"Oi! I'm talking here!" Spike clamped his free hand over Warren's mouth. By then, his finger had penetrated past the second knuckle. "The pain'll be unbearable," he continued, "But you won't be able to move. A bullet usually travels faster than this, of course. But the dying...it'll seem like it takes forever. That's something, innit?" He shook his head in amazement. "One tiny piece of metal destroys everything. It ripped her insides out. Took her light away. From the world," he swallowed, "From me."

He remembered how Buffy looked, lying on the ground. The blankness of her face. In times past, he'd seen that expression on so many of his victims, right when they gave up the fight. The paramedics had known that look, too. Their faces were set in grim expressions as they worked on her. They knew she was a lost cause, even as they strove to save her.

"Now the one person who should be here is gone," Spike hissed, "and a waste like you gets to live." He twisted his finger inside Warren's chest before yanking it from the wound, then he pulled his hand away from Warren's mouth.

"Please! God!" the man shrieked, "I did wrong, I see that now. I-I need...jail! I need... But you, you don't want this. When you get caught, you'll lose them, too. Your friends. They'll put a stake in you for sure. You don't want that."

Spike licked his lips, tasted the blood that had oozed from his nose. His head was pounding, and he wondered if he was going to suffer a stroke from this. Not that it mattered.

He tilted his head as a faint scrabbling noise reached his ears. Spike grinned. "I'm not the one you need to worry about, mate."

Warren's eyes bugged as the earth over the fresh grave began to bulge upward. Fingers erupted from the mound and clawed at the surrounding dirt.

"Oh, god!" Warren jerked ineffectually against the chains. _"Help me! For Christ's sake, somebody!"_

Spike stood back, a ghastly smile on his face, watching as the fledgeling tore free of its grave and lurched towards its first meal.

* * *

"Stop! Stop here!" Anya cried.

Xander stomped on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt. Anya immediately jumped out and started running, the others hurrying to catch up. They ran through the maze of tombstones and crypts, until the sight of what lay up ahead brought all of them to a standstill.

"Oh, my god," Xander gasped.

They were just in time to see Spike stake the fledgeling. He looked horrific with his vamp-face and the blood staining his fangs. It didn't matter that it was clearly his own blood, running down from his nose. It was still a terrifying sight.

Warren was chained upright to a stone pillar, his head slumped against his chest. His throat had been ripped out by the overeager fledge.

"What did you do?" Tara whispered, too shocked to raise her voice.

Spike gazed at the newly arrived Scoobies, his golden eyes devoid of emotion. "One down," he stated coldly. Then, with a dramatic flare of his duster, he spun and ran off into the night so fast they couldn't hope to follow.


	21. Chapter 21: Two To Go

**A/N:** The end is nigh! One more chapter after this one, plus possibly an epilogue, I haven't decided yet. Read and enjoy!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I was not sorrowful, but only tired_

_Of everything that ever I desired._

_Her lips, her eyes, all day became to me_

_The shadow of a shadow utterly._

_All day mine hunger for her heart became_

_Oblivion, until the evening came,_

_And left me sorrowful, inclined to weep,_

_With all my memories that could not sleep._

-_Spleen_, by Ernest Dowson

Xander stared at Warren's body, then looked at the new grave the fledgeling had dug himself out of. The name on the tombstone read Aaron Jankins. Xander vaguely remembered reading the name in the paper—yet another death listed as an "animal attack"—and thinking he should let Buffy know so she could check for vampirism on her next patrol. Before the shooting. Before everything went to hell. Spike obviously read that same news report, only the vampire saw it as a chance to off Warren in a creative way that didn't involve Spike giving himself a killer migraine in the process.

"Help me." Xander went to the body and fumbled to unhook the chains holding it upright. The chains loosened and Warren's corpse toppled to the ground. Xander grabbed the body under the arms and started dragging it towards the unearthed grave.

"Wh-What're you doing?" Tara stammered, even as she hurried to pick up Warren's legs.

"Gotta hide the body."

"What!" Tara nearly dropped Warren's legs, "Wh-Why?"

Xander grunted under the load he was toting. "Buffy could still wake up. And if she does, and if Warren's body gets found, she'll know it was Spike who killed him. And if she knows it was Spike, she'll have to dust him for killing a human. Doesn't matter how much of a lowlife said human was. Okay, drop it."

He and Tara released their hold and let the corpse fall into the hole left by the fledgeling. A little adjusting, and the body was fully inside the grave.

"I thought you'd be thrilled by the idea of Spike getting dusted," a puzzled Anya remarked.

Xander started pushing the loose earth into the hole, covering the grave and its grisly contents. "Normally...I would," he panted, "But for some reason...Buffy loves that...undead bastard." He straightened, brushed the dirt from his hands. The grave's soil looked disturbed, like a small animal had been scratching around, but not suspicious enough for anyone to investigate. Hopefully.

"The whole time she was lying there in the backyard," he continued, "the only thing she said was Spike's name. If she's holding on for anything, it's probably him." Xander grimaced angrily. "I hate it," he spat, "I don't understand it. But she loves him. And if she wound up having to stake him, it'd kill her all over again."

"And if he kills again?" Anya asked.

"She's right," Tara said, "You heard what Spike said, 'One down.'"

Anya nodded, "He was talking about two to go, right? Jonathan and what's-his-face, the other guy."

"Andrew," Xander filled in.

"They're just sitting at County Jail without a clue Spike's coming," Tara declared, worry making her fidget.

Xander frowned, "You don't think he's gonna kill them, too?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Anya shrugged, "In his mind, they're guilty by association."

"So, you can still sense him?" Xander asked, "He's still on the vengeance rampage?"

Anya pursed her lips, shook her head. "No. Whatever he's feeling now, it's gone way beyond simple vengeance."

This troubled Xander even more. Killing Warren was one thing; he was a cold-blooded killer of women, just warming up. In Xander's opinion, the bastard had it coming. And Tara and Anya didn't seem to have that many qualms about it, either. But if Spike went after the other two, whose only real sin was being Warren's dumb lackeys...

"Fast as Spike is right now, he could be there already," he muttered.

"No, he couldn't," Anya disagreed, "Vampires are fast, but not _that_ fast. Not as fast as this."

"What?"

"Teleporting." Anya promptly disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Right. Vengeance demon. Well, at least she'll get there first."

He and Tara hurried through the cemetery until they reached the place where they'd left his car. Xander cursed as soon as he saw it; the tires had been slashed. "God damn it! Spike!"

"The jail i-isn't that far away," Tara said, "W-We could run there."

"Not like we got a choice."

The two of them jogged down the empty road, hoping they reached their destination before their legs gave out. Or before they were too late.

* * *

Spike chuckled when he found what he needed just a couple of blocks away from the jail. There was some road work being done, and the crew had left their equipment out overnight. Large machines like earth movers, steamrollers, and backhoes, their hulking forms sitting like a herd of slumbering metal beasts. Spike clambered into the cab of one of the vehicles and grinned when he found the keys left in the ignition by some lazy-arse worker. This was gonna be fun.

Minutes later, a uniformed cop sitting out in his patrol car, filling out a report, looked up at the sound of a distant rumble. As the noise got louder, the cup of coffee left on his dashboard started to tremble. He got out of his vehicle and gaped as a massive backhoe came trundling down the street towards the station. More cops poured out of the building, shouting in alarm and drawing their weapons. The driver of the stolen machine ignored them. The backhoe came to a stop in front of the building and its jointed arm reared up. There was a depression in the second story wall where a window once existed and had been bricked off. The backhoe's bladed shovel attachment slammed into those bricks, sending mortar dust and jagged chips of masonry showering down. The shovel struck again, and again, slowly breaking through to the holding cell that lay beyond.

The police continued to yell and threaten, until finally one of them fired his weapon into the backhoe's control cab. The others followed suit, and soon the cab's windows were peppered with bullet holes. But the machine didn't falter in its destruction. A jagged hole appeared in the wall and was quickly widened. Only when it was big enough for a man to fit through did the backhoe finally stop swinging. The arm slowly lowered and the powerful diesel engine shut down. There was a moment of tense silence, then a blur of black leather and white-blonde hair suddenly burst through the machine's windshield and leapt with inhuman ease up to the building's second story.

Spike scrambled through the jagged hole into the cell, only to freeze when he discovered it empty. The cell door was wide open, the key still in the lock. Spike's golden eyes blazed and he roared in uncontrollable fury.

* * *

Anya, Jonathan, and Andrew sneaked out of the station's back entrance, into an alley. In the confusion, Anya had managed to steal the key to the cell from the distracted guard and let the two men out moments before Spike busted his way in. Now she was trying to figure out where the hell she and her two fugitives should go.

"What's that sound?" Andrew cried in alarm.

"That would be the sound of a thwarted vampire," Anya replied absently.

"We're gonna have to make a run for it!" Jonathan declared.

"Are you kidding?" Andrew gaped at the shorter man, "How're we gonna outrun him?"

A patrol car squealed to a halt in front of them. Xander was behind the wheel, Tara in the front passenger seat. "Get in!"

Jonathan, Andrew, and Anya quickly piled into the backseat and the car peeled out.

"I-Is he coming?" Tara asked as she peered over her shoulder.

Xander squinted at the rearview mirror. "I don't see anything."

"Where are you taking us?" Andrew asked.

"We'll find someplace safe and keep you there 'til we can stop Spike," Tara assured him.

Andrew was less than confident. "Run and hide? That's your brilliant plan?"

"I don't believe this," Jonathan groaned.

"Boys," Xander snapped in a put-upon voice, "if you don't knock it off, I will pull this car over and you can just walk to your painful deaths from here."

"I don't get it," Jonathan muttered, "Why's he after _us?_"

"You worked with Warren," Anya explained, "Warren shot Buffy. As far as Spike's concerned, you're all guilty. I thought I explained all this back at the jail. Try to keep up."

"But we didn't do anything!" Andrew whined. Anya smacked him over the head. _"Ow!"_

"An pretty much speaks for all of us right now," Xander stated, "Now both of you shut up."

Andrew sulked. Jonathan stared out the back window, fearful of the possibility that Spike might give chase.

* * *

Spike leapt from rooftop to rooftop, following after the runaway patrol car until it hit the highway leading from town. He snarled in frustration, scanned the area for anything that might be helpful. That was when he saw a tractor-trailer idling at a stoplight. With a feral grin, he ran to the vehicle and yanked the door open, dragging the startled driver out and flinging him away. Spike got behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, and took off with a roar of the diesel engine and a cloud of black exhaust fumes.

In the patrol car, Jonathan's eyes widened as a massive semi truck bore down on them. The car shook as the semi rammed their rear bumper. "Geez it!"

"What was that?" Andrew yelled.

"Oh, just Spike," Xander drawled. He nearly banged his face into the steering wheel when the truck rammed them again. "Okay, any ideas?"

"Drive faster!" Anya shouted.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks, An!"

"He knows you're in this car, too, right?" Jonathan squeaked, _"Right?"_

The car shuddered again.

"I don't think he really cares," Xander deduced. He started swerving the car back and forth, hoping to cause the larger vehicle to jackknife. Seeing what he was doing, Tara twisted in her seat and stretched her hand out towards the semi. She yelled something in another language, focusing her telekinetic ability.

Inside the truck's cab, Spike cursed as the steering wheel suddenly jerked to the right. He twisted it back to the left, overcompensating in the process. The next thing he knew, the tractor-trailer was jackknifing and the truck's cab tipped onto its side. The vehicle screeched to a halt in a scream of metal and burning rubber, and the patrol car sped away, vanishing into the distance.

* * *

A doctor came to let Willow and Dawn know that Buffy was out of surgery. Dawn sat off to the side, only half listening as the doctor explained Buffy's condition to Willow. She heard words like "severe cardiac trauma" and "massive blood loss" and "coma." That last word made Dawn straighten in her chair a little; her sister was in a coma.

"I-Is she gonna wake up from it?" Willow asked, wringing her hands.

The doctor's expression remained distantly sympathetic. "It's touch and go right now. She may wake up within the next few hours, or it may take weeks." _Or she won't wake at all_, the unspoken words hung in the air.

Dawn finally spoke up, "Can I see her?"

The doctor said yes, and she and Willow were taken to a nondescript, sterile room. Buffy lay in the hospital bed, wires and tubes running from her body to various blinking, humming machines. She looked peaceful, like this was nothing more than an afternoon nap and her eyes could blink open at any moment.

Dawn tentatively grasped her sister's hand. It was warm, but limp. When she gave it a light squeeze, Buffy didn't squeeze back.

Willow touched the girl's shoulder. "She'll be okay, Dawnie," she tried her best to sound convincing, "You know how fast that Slayer healing is. She'll but up and around in no time."

Dawn swallowed a lump in her throat. "Could you...leave me alone with her for a little while?"

Willow hesitated, then mustered a weak smile and nodded. "Okay. I-I need to make some phone calls, anyway."

She needed to get in touch with Giles, let him know what happened. And she was going to call the Magic Box and Xander's apartment in hopes that her friends would be at one or the other place, hopefully with the news that they'd found Spike and everything was okay now.

Dawn hardly reacted when she heard the door click shut. Alone with only the sounds of the life-support machinery, she gazed down at Buffy's still features, hoping to catch a glimpse of even the slightest twitch. Her throat burned in a mixture of grief and rage, feelings that had stewed in her since Willow and Tara arrived at her school to tell her that Buffy had been shot. Of all the dangers her sister faced every day, it was a lousy bullet fired by a pathetic wannabe criminal mastermind that might be the end of her. It wasn't fair! Dawn already lost her sister once. Why should she have to lose her again? Why should Warren get away with it and Spike, who was willing to do what none of the others would, was probably going to get staked for his actions? Dawn's stomach roiled with the injustice of it all.

The door opened briefly as a nurse entered the room. Dawn ignored her until a familiar voice said, "Poor thing. She really doesn't look too hot right now, does she?"

Dawn looked up, her surprise fading as quickly as it came. "Halfrek."

The dark-haired woman in a nurse's uniform smiled. The blue stone of her pendant sparkled in the fluorescent lights. "Hello, Dawn. I would've been here sooner, but the mental screams from William drowned out everything else. That vampire _really_ had a thirst for vengeance."

"'Had'? You mean..."

"Whatever he was after, it's done now," Halfrek shrugged, then smiled brightly, "But enough about him! How can I help you, sweetie?" She peered down at the comatose woman. "I'm guessing you desire a little vengeance on the man responsible for this."

Dawn's shoulders slumped. "If Spike isn't looking for Warren anymore, then he's gotta be dead."

"Oh," Halfrek waved a dismissive hand, "I never let a little thing like death get in the way of exacting justice! I know of one or two particularly nasty hell dimensions you could wish him into. Or you could wish him to be reincarnated as some kind of bug or hideous creature..."

As Dawn pondered her options, she realized that whatever vengeance she wished upon Warren, the satisfaction would only be fleeting. And Buffy would still be lying in that hospital bed, breathing through a tube. Then, in a flash of inspiration, Dawn knew how she could get back at Warren and save her sister at the same time.

"Warren wanted Buffy dead," she stated, then squared her shoulders as she declared, "I wish that Buffy would recover. That she'd be perfectly healed, like she was never shot in the first place."

The vengeance demon scrutinized the teen for a beat, then a slow smirk worked its way across her face. "Clever girl. It lacks the usual destructive flair, however..."

"Will you do it?" Dawn interrupted, anxious.

Halfrek appeared to think it over. "It _is_ a clever wish, and I _am_ rather fond of you," she sighed dramatically, "Oh, what the hell. Vengeance isn't always about bloody mayhem, after all." Her face transformed into the familiar veins and ridges, and her deepened voice intoned, "Wish granted."

There was a flash, and by the time Dawn blinked her vision clear, Halfrek was gone. She stared at her sister anxiously, waiting for some sign that her condition was about to get better.

* * *

Buffy was dreaming. She had to be dreaming, because there was no way these were memories. They were all wrong, familiar moments twisted into something darker:

..._The demolished house, Buffy scrambling to put on her clothes. She was horrified and disgusted by what she and Spike had done, and just wanted to get as far away from him as she could._

_ "I'm just saying," he said from where he lounged naked on the floor, "vampires get you hot."_

_ "_A_ vampire got me hot! _One!_ You're just...convenient."_

(The hurt Buffy saw in Spike's expression made her heart clench. She wanted to yell at her dream-self, ask her why she was being so cruel when they'd both wanted this.)

..._Constantly going to him, in secret, ashamed of her weakness. Wanting to feel and wanting to be punished for feeling. Using him and pushing him away. Lashing out when he tried to help her..._

_ "I am _not_ your girl!" Her fists connected with his face, over and over, bruising flesh and bone. "You don't have a soul! There is nothing good or clean in you! You can't feel anything real! I will _never_ be your girl!"_

_ ..."I'm using you."_

_ "Really not complaining here."_

_ "And it's killing me. I'm sorry, William. It's over."_

(No, no! That's not how it happened!)

_...Telling Spike to get on with his life, then feeling betrayed when the Trio's hidden camera showed him and Anya having sex in the Magic Box..._

_ ...Spike confronting her in the bathroom, after the mishap during patrol left Buffy with a hurting back. Emotions running high. Spike insisting and Buffy denying any love for him. The argument accelerating beyond their control, becoming something terrible._

_ "Spike! Please don't!"_

_ "I know you felt it when I was inside you," his voice quavered as he pinned her to the bathroom floor, "I'm gonna make you feel it!"_

_ Buffy screamed as he tore at her robe. She managed to kick him across the room, and as they both got to their feet, she spat at him, "Ask me again why I can never love you!"_

_ Spike stared at her in horror. "Buffy, my god, I'd never—"_

_ "Because I stopped you!"_

(Wrong. It was all wrong...)

_...Buffy was shot by Warren, but in this twisted reality, Tara was also hit by a stray bullet and died instantly. Willow, driven mad by grief, gave in to the dark magics and became a terrifying force of vengeance set to destroy the world..._

_...Meanwhile, Spike left Sunnydale with a new purpose. His determination carried him across the ocean and deep into Africa, where he confronted an ancient demon in its cave lair._

_ "Bitch thinks she's better than me. Ever since I got this bleeding chip in my head things ain't been right. Everything's gone to hell."_

_ "And you want to return to your former self," the demon hissed. Its laughter mocked the vampire's resolve. "Look what she's reduced you to. You were a legendary dark warrior and you let yourself be castrated. And you have the audacity to crawl in here and demand restoration? You're a pathetic excuse for a demon," the creature snarled in disgust._

_ "I'll show you pathetic," Spike retorted, "Gimme your best shot."_

_ "You'd never endure the trials required to grant your request," the demon scoffed._

_ "Do your worst," Spike challenged, "But when I win, I want what I came here for." His face twisted in an angry snarl. "Bitch is gonna see a change."_

(His chip, she thought. He wants his chip removed.)

_ ...And he fought one foe after another, endured every torture the demon set against him. Until, finally, as he lay half-dead on the hard cave floor, the demon grudgingly said to him, "You have endured the required trials."_

_ "Bloody right I have." Spike rolled to his side and shakily rose to his knees. "So you give me what I want. Make me what I was, so Buffy can get what she deserves."_

(The way he said it...there was no anger like before. It was more like pleading.)

_ "Very well," the demon growled, "We will return...your soul."_

_ A taloned hand was placed on the vampire's chest. There was a blaze of light, and Spike screamed in agony..._

The dreams continued into events that hadn't happened yet. Most of it was a blur, as if Buffy wasn't meant to see the details. But she saw enough. She saw Spike's guilt-induced madness, she saw the deaths of the Potential Slayers, she saw the torture inflicted on Spike by the First Evil, and her own emotional distancing from him...and she saw his death. Standing in the cavern while the light blazed forth from him, channeled by the amulet around his neck. Buffy witnessed her dream-self approach and twine her hand with his, heard her finally utter the words she never said before in this other reality...

_"I love you."_

_ "No, you don't," Spike smiled tenderly, "But thanks for saying it."_

He told her to go, and she left. He let the light consume him, a smile on his face, finally at peace. The Hellmouth imploded, the town above collapsing into a massive crater. And Spike burned...burned...

_...Willow standing on Kingman's Bluff, feeding her dark magics into the demon goddess's effigy, the earth around her scorching...burning..._

_ ...Spike standing on Kingman's Bluff, head thrown back and arms outstretched, the sun rising in the distance, burning...burning..._

Spike was burning.

"Spike!" Buffy sat up with a scream, her flailing arms dislodging wires that set the machines around her to beeping in alarm. A bevy of nurses and doctors rushed into the room, expecting to find their patient dying and shocked to discover her very much alive and active.

"Buffy!" Dawn cried, running to her awakened sister and flinging her arms around her. "Ohmigod! You're okay."

Breathing heavily, Buffy gradually calmed enough to hug her sister back. "What...What happened?"

* * *

"This is one of the first places he's gonna think to look for us," Tara pointed out as they all hurried into the Magic Box.

"Then what're we doing here?" Andrew exclaimed. "Y'know, I could summon a demon that would kill him," he suggested.

Xander glared at the conjurer. "And I could smack you so hard, your eyeballs would switch sockets."

"No one is getting killed," Tara stated firmly. She pointed at some nearby chairs. "Sit down."

Jonathan and Andrew did as they were told, looking very much like scolded children.

Tara started leafing through some of the spell books. "W-We need to find some sort of magics that will stop Spike, o-or at least slow him down."

Anya descended from the upper level where the more powerful books were kept. Clutched in her hands was a dusty volume so old its title was long since faded from the cover. "I remember Giles mentioning a type of binding spell in here that's supposed to incapacitate demons. Sort of like a forcefield. It's temporary, and it won't hurt him. Just keep him in one place for a while."

"Let me see." Tara took the book from her and started paging through it. She sighed, "Well, the bad news is, I can't read a word of this. It looks like ancient Sumerian, or something."

"Could I take a look at it?" Jonathan asked, hopping out of his chair like an eager puppy.

Xander glared at him. "Shut up and sit down."

"Right," Jonathan deflated, started to turn away, "I just thought, you know, as long as you're protecting us, the least I could do is—"

"We're not protecting you, Jonathan," Xander told him with his usual bluntness, "We're doing this for Buffy. The only reason it happens to be your lucky day is because if Spike kills you, he crosses a line that even Buffy can't ignore. She's already been through enough. She shouldn't have to lose her boyfriend on top of everything else, even if her boyfriend is an evil blood-sucking fiend."

Jonathan shrugged. "I get that."

"Now," Xander raised an eyebrow, "remember that thing we talked about?"

"About me shutting up?"

"And sitting down," Xander waved him towards the chair. Jonathan slouched back to his seat and plopped down, dejected.

Xander leaned over Tara's shoulder while the witch continued to scrutinize the text. "Let's say this works and we get Spike to stop with the killage for a minute," he murmured, "What then?"

Tara looked at him, shrugged. "We talk to him."

Xander didn't bother to hide his skepticism. "Great. And say what?"

Tara sighed, stared down at the book in thought. "Right now, Spike's acting out of grief. He's lost hope in ever seeing Buffy alive again. We need to remind him that she could still pull through."

"And if she doesn't?"

The witch looked at him in surprise. "You don't think she will?"

Xander chewed his lower lip. "When I talked to the doctor in the hospital...I could see it, y'know? The way he kept his face totally blank. He didn't wanna give it away, but he obviously doesn't think she's gonna make it."

"Buffy's strong," Tara insisted, "Stronger than any normal person. And she wants to live."

"You sure about that?" he asked, "I mean, I hate to even think it, but his could be her chance to get back to Heaven. Why would she pass that up? For Spike?" He scoffed at the notion.

Tara opened her mouth to protest, then faltered. She wanted to believe Buffy had plenty of reasons to live, but that niggling trace of doubt remained. Would she really fight to live if she had the chance to return to Heaven? The Heaven she was torn from by their good intentions?

The shop's door suddenly burst inward in a shower of splinters, and Spike marched in, his coat flaring behind him. "Knock-knock."

"Oh, god!" Andrew choked as he and Jonathan scrambled to their feet and backed away.

Xander interposed himself between them and the approaching vampire. He held both hands out in a placating gesture. "Spike, you need to back down a minute and think."

The vampire smirked, his gameface contorting into a sinister expression. "Think about what, exactly?"

"Spike," Tara spoke up, moving to stand beside Xander, "Don't do this. Buffy wouldn't want you to—"

"Buffy," Spike interrupted, voice oddly calm, "isn't here."

"She's still alive," the witch argued, "She n-n-needs you."

The vampire gave her a pitying look. "You don't get it, do you, Glinda? I've already crossed the line. Killed a human. Even if by some sodding miracle Buffy does make it...she won't be able to abide my existence after what I've done. Not to say I regret it," his expression hardened, "I'd kill that wanker again, if I could." He shrugged, "And since I'm already good as dusted, I figure, in for a penny..."

"What exactly are you gonna do?" Xander challenged, "I don't see any fledgeling vamps around. And if you keep pushing the chip's limits, you're probably gonna make yourself pass out. Hell, you're barely keeping your feet as it is."

He was right; now that Spike wasn't marching with a purpose, everyone could see how he swayed on his feet. The vampire was in a bad way.

Spike chuckled darkly, "Oh, Harris. I always figured you oughta have every square inch of your arse kicked." He reached into his duster's pocket, pulled out a stake and tossed it to the startled carpenter, who caught it on reflex. "C'mon, then," Spike taunted, arms spread in invitation, "Lessee what you got."

Tara's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. She grabbed Xander's arm. "Don't. It's what he wants. He wants you to kill him."

"Stay out of this, Glinda," the vampire scowled.

Xander frowned at the stake in his hand, then reluctantly tossed it aside, questioning his own sanity in the process.

Spike snorted in derision, "You pathetic poof." He leapt at them without warning, fangs bared in a predatory snarl.

Tara and Xander jumped back with cries of alarm. Then the vampire suddenly froze mid-leap. Behind him, Anya stood with the spell book in her hands, muttering incomprehensible words.

"Th-The binding spell!" Tara stammered.

Xander glanced behind him and saw that Jonathan and Andrew were gone. "Looks like the Dynamic Duo made a break for it."

"Sh-Should we look for them?"

"Look," Anya pointed. Spike was starting to move again, slowly, like he was swimming through molasses.

"Looks like the spell's more temporary than we thought," Xander observed.

Anya hurriedly read the incantation again, but it didn't seem to work. Tara rushed to her side, "Let me try."

It worked a little better when the witch read it, but they could still see the vampire moving. "H-He's fighting it," Tara said.

"Okay," Xander ran a nervous hand through his hair, "Anya, help me find some rope or something to tie him up. Tara, try to keep the spell going 'til we get back."

Xander and Anya disappeared into the basement while Tara continued to recite the spell. The next few minutes seemed to stretch into hours. Tara was beginning to wonder what was keeping them when she felt the spell beginning to fail. She struggled to keep it going, but she just wasn't powerful enough. With a soundless snap, Spike tumbled free and landed on the floor on unsteady legs. Tara backed away from his angry yellow glare.

"S-Spike, you're too late. Th-They're gone."

He glanced at the backdoor where Andrew and Jonathan apparently made their escape. "I'll find 'em."

"It's almost daylight," Tara argued. She dared to take a step closer, trying to reason with him. "W-Warren's body, it's gone," she told him, "Buffy doesn't have to know."

Spike's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. His golden eyes stared off somewhere faraway. "Sunrise ain't far off," he murmured, "Never was a fan of sunrises, even before I was turned. Buffy wasn't either. She liked sleepin' in."

Tara was disturbed by his use of the past tense.

"She loved sunsets, though," he continued, musing aloud, "She'd watch 'em from the window. Pulled back a corner of the curtain just a crack so the sun wouldn't get me. Her face would be all fiery orange and red...and that hair of hers would just glow. Looked like she was burning." He smiled, swallowed a lump in his throat. His next words came out so quiet Tara had to strain her ears to hear them, "Doesn't matter."

Tara jumped as the basement door slammed open and Xander and Anya hurried into the room bearing coils of rope. By the time she turned back around, Spike was gone.

"Where'd he go?" Anya asked.

"He must've gone after Andrew and Jonathan," Xander said.

Tara shook her head, a terrible certainty coming over her. "He doesn't care about that anymore."

"Then where the hell is he?"

More than anything, she wished she knew.

* * *

Buffy was determined to leave the hospital. The doctors tried to talk her out of it, mostly because they were baffled by her miraculous recovery. But she was adamant. The images of her dreams were blurred now that she was awake, but the sense of urgency they brought was still as powerful. She had to go. She had to find Spike before...

She rushed out of the room, Dawn trailing behind her. When they reached the waiting room, they found Willow talking on the phone. When she saw Buffy up and about, her eyes widened and she blurted into the receiver, "Oh, my god! I-I gotta go! She's awake!"

Willow quickly hung up and ran to embrace her friend. "You're okay!"

"I'm fine," Buffy smiled, hugging the redhead back.

Willow stepped back, her expression anxious. "I was talking to Anya. She and Xander and Tara are at the Magic Box," chattering rapidly, with a great deal of stutters and stops, she managed to fill Buffy in on everything that happened after she was shot. Everything except Warren's death, though Buffy figured it out from her friend's evasiveness. It didn't matter. Buffy felt only a grim sense of justice at the knowledge that Warren was dead. She only regretted it was Spike who did it, because it was sure to cause problems with her friends.

What truly worried her was hearing about Spike's disappearance from the magic shop. Xander and Willow were of the opinion that he was going after Jonathan and Andrew, in spite of the fact that sunset was a short time away. But something in Buffy's gut told her he wasn't interested in finishing the Trio off anymore. Something darker than vengeance was driving him now.

"I have to find him."

"But, Buffy," Willow's hands fluttered nervously, "We don't even know where he is."

"He's probably gone underground," Dawn suggested, "I mean, with morning coming..."

"He's not underground," Buffy stated with utter certainty.

"How d'you know?"

"She saw it in a dream."

All three girls spun to face the source of the familiar voice. Standing by the waiting room door, looking almost regal in his long black coat, was Giles.

Though he already knew the answer, he looked at Buffy and asked, "Didn't you?"

Buffy stood, mouth agape.


	22. Chapter 22: Grave

**A/N:** This chapter gave me quite a bit of trouble. I had most of it written out, only to chuck more than half of it because, frankly, I thought it was crap. I'm still not sure how this is gonna be taken. I am taking some huge liberties with canon, but the notion just wouldn't leave once it sprang to mind. So, here we go. Hope you all enjoy it! :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_The fountains mingle with the river_

_ And the rivers with the Ocean,_

_The winds of Heaven mix for ever_

_ With a sweet emotion;_

_Nothing in the world is single;_

_ All things by a law divine_

_In one spirit meet and mingle._

_ Why not I with thine?_

-_Love's Philosophy_, by Percy Bysshe Shelley

"Giles..." Buffy ran to throw her arms around her newly returned Watcher. The urgent need to find Spike was set aside for the moment, and she felt a deep sense of comfort in the older man's paternal embrace.

"I came as soon as I could," he murmured, his familiar accent soothing her. He ran a hand over her blonde tresses and remarked, "You cut your hair."

Buffy let out a shaky laugh.

"B-But how?" Willow stammered, glancing at the phone she'd used, "I just talked to you a little while ago! In England!"

Buffy drew back to look at the Watcher, a puzzled frown on her face. "The Council?"

"The Council haven't a clue," Giles's mouth twisted in a sardonic smile, "About much of anything, really. No, there's an extremely powerful coven in Devon. A seer in this coven sensed the impending rise of a dangerous magical force here in Sunnydale. For the past week she's been plagued with visions of a great battle that will be taking place here. And you and Spike both play vital roles in this battle. When Willow called and told me what was happening here, I knew I had to come at once."

"What kind of magical force?" Buffy asked, thinking of her own strange dream with an inkling of dread.

Giles sighed, shrugged. "I'm afraid she couldn't say. Prophetic dreams tend to be—"

"Vague?"

He nodded, "Irritatingly so, yes."

"Well, whatever this upcoming Big Bad is, if Spike plays an important part in fighting it, then I need to find him more than ever now." Buffy's expression was set in determination. "I have to go, Giles."

The Watcher nodded. "You know where to find him?"

"Yeah."

"You do?" Dawn blurted. Buffy was already headed for the exit, all but running in her haste. "Buffy!" the teen called after her.

Giles placed a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "It'll be alright, Dawn."

"But shouldn't we go help her? I-Isn't that why you're here?"

"I have my own part to play, and it involves this," Giles reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a slim, very old book, its cover so worn the title was impossible to read, "I had a dream of my own, last night. It showed me where to find this."

Willow peered at the volume, intrigued. "What is it?"

"Something believed destroyed long ago."

* * *

Kingman's Bluff was a cliff that overlooked the Pacific. It was a beautiful place, renowned for its clear view, and private enough to make it a popular spot for romantic trysts. Three years ago, on Christmas, Angel went to Kingman's Bluff to wait for the sunrise. Spike didn't know this, of course. If he had, he would've promptly turned around and sought out a different place to end his existence. No way would he ever knowingly follow in his grandsire's lead.

Spike stood at the cliff's edge, staring out at the rippling ocean. The water glittered with reflected starlight. It was still night, but there was the faintest smudge of gray on the horizon which the vampire's keen eyes easily discerned. Not much longer, now.

He'd reached a point beyond mere exhaustion. The only thing keeping him on his feet was sheer stubborn pride; he would not meet his end on his knees. He still wore his vamp-face. His head throbbed dully from the chip's earlier punishment, the blood that had leaked from his nose now caked and dried to his lips and chin. It made him look more demonic than ever.

Now that the end was in sight, Spike found himself musing over his long and eventful life. He'd come a long way from the mousy, lovelorn ponce who used to write bad poetry. The clothes, the hair, the attitude, and even the accent were all different. Yet, despite this transformation, at his core he was still William. Alone, insecure, and desperate to be loved by someone as much as he loved them. Took over a century, but he finally found that love. It was a bloody miracle he never dared expect to happen. And now it was gone. Snuffed out in an instant by a pathetic lowlife Spike wouldn't have deigned to snack on even when he was able to bite people. The Fates were sadistic, they were.

Spike swayed dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. To hell with pride, he was bloody knackered. Groaning like an old man, he slowly sat down, then lay back on the ground, staring up at the sky. Without the lights of the town to compete with, the stars were beautifully clear. Spike couldn't remember the last time he saw a sky like that. He wondered how much of his dust would wind up in the ocean and how much would blow away in the wind.

"Spike!"

He tensed at the achingly familiar voice calling him from a distance. He didn't dare turn his head, not sure whether it would be worse to see something or to see nothing. He heard the sound of running footsteps approaching, then heavy breaths of someone panting from exertion.

"Spike," a hand touched his shoulder, "We have to go. Sunrise is coming."

The chip must have damaged his brain from all that firing. This had to be a hallucination. The real Buffy was languishing in some hospital bed, if she wasn't already dead. This couldn't be her.

The gray on the horizon was expanding, getting lighter. False dawn, some called it. Those first rays before the true sunrise.

He was suddenly gripped under both arms and dragged roughly to his feet. "Spike! Come on!" He was shoved away from the cliff's edge, towards the footpath leading down from the bluff. "Move!"

A surge of anger-fueled adrenaline overtook him. He was not going to be put off by some bloody figment of his imagination! With a vicious snarl, he turned and flung himself on the petite form, knocking them both to the ground. He reared back, fangs bared, only to freeze when his golden eyes lit on Buffy's anxious face.

"It's okay," she whispered. Her hand reached up and traced his demonic features. "It's okay. I'm here. I love you."

"Buffy?" her name came out as a rasp. "How..."

"I don't know," she shook her head, "It doesn't matter. I'm alive, and I need you to live, too. We need to find shelter."

"Buffy...I killed Warren."

"I don't care." Maybe she should have felt guilty for saying that, but she didn't. Warren had made his choice. His death was nothing more than the consequence of his actions.

Buffy raised her head and gently kissed him. His fangs lightly pricked her bottom lip. Spike let out a sound between a moan and a sob and deepened the kiss, tasting traces of her blood and his own together. He heard the racing beat of her pulse and felt a clenching of his undead heart. He didn't know what instinct drove him to do what he did next—it wasn't hunger or a desire to kill—but it just felt too right to ignore. His mouth left hers and trailed down the side of her neck until he encountered the scars from her previous bites. His lips closed over the raised scar tissue, fangs poised to sink into the soft flesh, when he hesitated. Then he felt a sharp pain on the side of his own neck, heard Buffy's soft moan as she sucked at the wound. With a quiet sigh, Spike gave in to his long-held desire and bit down, marking her as his. Only his.

* * *

Willow, Giles, and Dawn reunited with Xander, Anya, and Tara at the Magic Box. They gathered around the circular table where Giles placed the slim volume down and opened it to the first age-yellowed page. "A little more than a century ago there was a Watcher by the name of Michael Poole. Mad Michael, he came to be known. A notorious legend in the annals of the Council. He was always considered a bit odd, but then one day he claimed to have been regularly visited by what he called a 'Guiding Spirit'. This spirit, according to Michael, came to him on behalf of the Powers That Be to tell him the true nature of the Slayers."

"You mean besides the slaying part?" Xander asked.

Giles nodded. "He wrote down everything the spirit told him and made several copies. The Council declared the words heresy and had all the copies destroyed, though there had always been the persistent rumor that Michael managed to conceal one of them before the Council had him imprisoned."

"And that's it?" Dawn pointed at the book.

"It would seem so." Giles's mouth quirked in a wry grin. "I had an extraordinarily vivid dream of an ancient ruin that was once a small church. Specifically, the church's graveyard. There was a specific tombstone with a faded Celtic cross carved into it. When I woke I was able to locate those ruins and found that very grave right where the dream showed it. When I unearthed the remains, I found a small metal chest amongst the bones. This book was inside it."

"What's it say?" Willow eagerly peered at the delicate scrawl on the exposed pages, "Is it all cryptic and metaphory?"

"Actually, the text is shockingly straightforward." Giles adjusted his glasses and began to read aloud, "'This is the tale as told to me by the Guiding Spirit: In the beginning there was nothing, and then there was everything. The Powers That Be created the Light and the Dark, and life sprang forth from both. Creatures of the Light, and creatures of the Dark, living together in perfect balance. But the Balance was unstable. The Dark proved too volatile, the Light too static, one side always seeking to obliterate the other. But should one side fall, the other will follow into extinction, for neither can exist without the other, just as death cannot exist without life, nor the host without the symbiote.'"

"Sounds like something a Watcher would've written," Xander muttered, "Can we skip the flowery prose and cut to the chase?"

Giles released a put-upon sigh and turned the page. "'The Guiding Spirit went on to tell me that the Slayer is not, in fact, a fighter of Evil. Her task is to maintain the Balance between Light and Dark.

"'This is what the Council has long ago chosen to forget: For thousands of years, one Slayer, and one alone, has been Called each generation. But it will not always be this way. For the Slayer Line is merely a series of prototypes—'"

"What! It says that?" Willow got up from her chair to lean over the Watcher's shoulder. The others quickly followed suit, staring down at the carefully written words.

"I told you it was straightforward," Giles stated, then continued, "'Once a functional model is settled upon, the rest of the potential Slayers will be Called. As of now, each Slayer is active for but a handful of years before she meets her end. This tragic wastefulness was never what the Powers That Be desired for their champions. The Slayers were not made to perish so young. Like the vampires they fight, the Slayers are gifted with great strength, keen instincts, and great healing. But there is one more blessing the Slayers possess, of which the Council is either unaware of or wishes to be kept secret. Like the vampires, the Slayers are undying.'"

A stunned silence followed.

"Wait..." Xander held up a hand, "Are you saying that—"

"Buffy's immortal," Anya interjected, sounding somewhat less gobsmacked than the others.

"Holy crap," Dawn gaped.

Having read through the book when he first retrieved it, Giles was mostly past his shock at its controversial contents. It probably helped that he was already cynical of the Council he served. Men like Quentin Travers, especially, were less than pure in their motives. He read on, "'My Guiding Spirit tells me the Powers have devised a solution in keeping with the Balance. The Slayer is a creature of the Light with a fragment of the Dark within her; not a demon, but the _essence_ of a demon. The Balance demands a counterpart, a creature of the Dark with a fragment of the Light within; not a soul, but the _essence_ of a soul. And he shall be known as the Intended. As I write these words, the first Intended has been chosen and Called. He will be compelled to seek out the Slayer, and if the match is true, they shall unite in equal partnership. The Light in him will call out to the Dark in her, the Dark in her will cry to the Light in him. Each shall complete the other, the missing part of the whole.'"

Giles quietly shut the book and leaned back in his chair. There was more to the thin volume, of course, but it could wait. For now, he let the others digest what they'd learned. He was still coming to grips with it himself.

"No wonder the Council had it destroyed," Tara suddenly spoke, "I-It changes so much..."

"It changes everything," Giles murmured, sounding terribly weary at that moment, "It all comes down to power. As long as there is only one Slayer at a time, and so long as she always dies young, the Council can maintain its control over her, and therefore retain its power. And Slayers always die young because, sooner or later, they always have a deathwish. Even the ones with an emotional support system—friends, family—it only prolongs the inevitable. But if this is true," he tapped the book, "and I strongly suspect it is, then Buffy may soon have something more to live for."

It was Dawn who finally said what they were all thinking. "Does this mean... I-Is Spike...the Intended?"

Giles pursed his lips. "Loath as I am so say it, I suspect so. His behavior has always been...different...from other vampires. As if a small piece of his humanity managed to hold on after he was turned."

"A fragment of the Light," Willow murmured, quoting Michael's words.

"This would explain his obsession with Slayers," Anya mused, "I mean, going after not one, but _three—_"

"And killing two!" Xander cried.

"Well, obviously it wasn't a good match those first two times," the vengeance demon countered, "Maybe they were too far gone by the time he met them. Maybe if they'd known—y'know, if the Watchers had actually told those Slayers all this stuff..." She indicated the book.

"But they didn't," Giles sighed, "They wanted to maintain the status quo. So they declared Michael Poole a madman and tried to bury the information forever."

"And Spike didn't know...I mean, how would he?" Tara gazed at the tabletop sadly, "Maybe he knew there was something different about him, but there was no one to tell him anything."

Willow touched her girlfriend's hand. "He must've felt so alone."

"Oh, for god's sake!" Xander exclaimed, hands flailing, "It's _Spike!_ You know, William the Bloody? Slaughtered half of Europe? Why would these Powers That Be want a monster like _him_ to hook up with Buffy?"

"It said in the book," Dawn pointed out, "It's not about good or evil. Spike and Buffy balance each other out."

"Right," Xander drawled in obvious skepticism, "Do we even know if this book's legit?"

"It is," Giles quietly assured him, "The coven's seer had the same dream as I did. And," he flipped to another page of the book, "Michael drew a picture of his 'Guiding Spirit.'" He held up the relevant page and there was a collective gasp. The exquisitely detailed sketch was of a young woman with light hair tied back in a ponytail. There was no mistaking her carefully rendered features for anyone else's.

"That's..." Xander's voice faded.

"Buffy," Willow finished, her expression awestruck.

* * *

Somehow, they made it to town and dropped into the first manhole they found as the first rays of morning blazed. Buffy didn't think she'd ever ran so fast in her life.

The instant they were safely underground, Spike pinned her to the nearest wall and attacked her lips with his own. Buffy laughed into the kiss, euphoric. Her fingers trailed over Spike's now human features and down the sides of his neck. The fingertips of her left hand encountered the bite she'd given him. She touched it with infinite delicacy, causing the vampire to shudder in response. She felt his arousal and his overwhelming joy, felt it as clearly as her own. And she knew he felt her emotions in turn.

"You're mine," she whispered against his lips.

"Yours," Spike growled.

"Mine," Buffy repeated, "And I'm yours."

His emotions surged in her, so powerful they brought tears to her eyes. _Love,_ they cried. _Want. Need._

_Love,_ she responded. _Take. Have._

Spike took off his duster and flung it on the ground, then roughly lay Buffy on top of it. She clawed at him, hating the clothes that separated them. There were a few lost buttons and a rip here and there, then it was just skin against skin, breath mingling with breath, bodies twining and joining. They fed off each other's pleasure, until they could no longer tell where one began and the other ended.

They didn't fall asleep afterwards so much as pass out, their limbs still entangled. Yet even in their sleep they felt each other.

Buffy woke hours later, shivering in the underground chill. Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from the slumbering vampire and put on her scattered clothes. The collar of her shirt brushed against the bite on her neck and she smiled. Buffy wasn't sure what happened between her and Spike, but it didn't feel in any way like a bad thing. She felt Spike's contentment over the strange new link and knew he was dreaming something nice. She knelt down beside him and watched him sleep.

She knew he was waking before he even stirred. Spike stretched his entire body like a cat and lazily blinked open his eyes. It was weird feeling the complex emotions come over him as he started to recall the last twenty-four hours. Buffy sent an experimental soothing thought and felt Spike's surprise and delight.

"It wasn't a dream," he murmured, voice a tad slurred from sleep.

Buffy shook her head and smiled. "I'd ask how you were feeling, but..."

Spike grinned and the link revealed: _hunger...dull headache...happy/scared._

Buffy frowned. "What's the scared for?"

"What if this isn't real?"

She smiled tenderly, then slapped him upside the head.

"Hey!" he laughed, "Watch it, luv. Head still hurts."

"Well, now you know this is real," she retorted. She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Let's go home and get some blood in you. Then we'd better tell the others to come over. Giles is back."

Spike paused in stepping into his jeans to quirk a scarred eyebrow. "Watcher's here?"

"Yeah. Apparently some witches teleported him. Been a lot of future-telling dreams going around lately; something about a new Big Bad on the way. And guess who gets to save the world again."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Bloody brilliant. Can't we get a sodding pass just this once?"

"Well, hey, if you wanna sit this one out," Buffy shrugged in feigned indifference, "Not like I haven't handled an apocalypse or two on my own, y'know."

Instead of playing along, Spike put his arms around her waist and said in all seriousness, "You're not doing anything alone, Buffy. Not ever again."

Buffy swallowed, touched by this declaration. Then, of course, that perverse part of her that always had to undercut the serious moments compelled her to say, "Even if I have to go to the bathroom?"

The vampire snorted and she felt his amusement. "That'd be the exception that proves the rule, luv."

He picked up his duster, shook it off before putting it on, then he took Buffy's hand and led the way through the maze of tunnels with the confidence of long experience. When they arrived at the house, Spike heated up some much-needed blood while Buffy called the Magic Box to let everyone know she and Spike were alright.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," she said after hanging up the phone.

Spike finished off the blood and rinsed out the coffee mug. "They might have some things to say about me still bein' here undusted," he warned.

Buffy crossed her arms. "They'll just have to deal. I'm not giving you up." Her hand reached up to touch the bite mark. "I don't think I _could_ now, even if I wanted to. This...connection, or whatever—"

"It's called a Claim," Spike explained with a hint of trepidation, "Heard of it, but thought it was a myth. It's not just our feelings that are connected, it's our lifeforces. If one of us dies..."

"The other dies, too?"

Spike nodded, then relaxed as he felt the warmth emanating from her.

"Guess that means my friends are gonna have to deal, whether they like it or not," she smirked.

A knock at the door heralded the Scoobies' arrival. They were all strangely subdued when they entered the house and gathered in the living room. When Buffy informed them of her and Spike's Claim, their reaction wasn't anywhere near as worked up as she expected. It was like they'd almost expected to hear something like this.

Dawn got up from her seat and went to hug Spike. "Guess this makes you kinda like my brother-in-law now," she grinned.

Spike smiled at the girl.

"You guys don't seem all that wiggy about this," Buffy remarked, slightly wary.

Giles sighed and held up a book he'd been carrying. "There's something you need to read."

* * *

Buffy fought back tears as she hugged her best friend goodbye. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Willow's voice quavered. She stepped back and wiped her eyes, then gripped Tara's hand with a smile. The two women were returning with Giles to England. His friends in the coven had learned of Willow's incredible power and were offering the chance to train her properly, so that she could safely use magics without her addiction flaring up. It was not an easy decision to make. It required a lot of soul-searching and discussion, but in the end, Willow realized that with the new Big Bad somewhere on the horizon, they would need every edge, and that included magic.

Buffy embraced Giles one last time. The Watcher smiled paternally. "We will keep in regular contact, of course. The seer at the coven will warn me the instant she has any visions. And I shall also endeavor to research everything I can on the Claim, though from what I've heard, there was very little research done on it since it was considered a myth."

"Do what you can," Buffy said. It saddened her to see the Watcher leave again so soon after his return. But they didn't know how long they had before the danger she'd dreamed about would arrive. Or even what the danger _was_, exactly. So they would prepare as well as they could, and hope for the best.

Buffy smiled as she felt a wave of reassurance across the link. The vampire was with Dawn. After the girl had said a tearful goodbye to Willow, Tara, and Giles back at the house, Dawn and Spike went to the Magic Box to start her training. In a few months, if all went well, Buffy would let her come on patrol with her and Spike. After everything that happened, almost losing Spike, almost dying again, Buffy realized she didn't want to shelter her sister from the world anymore. She wanted to show it to her, prepare her for all the bad and share in all the good. Because she knew now that there was so much good to see in the world, even in the darkest places.

"Good luck," Giles said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

"You, too. I'll miss you, Giles."

With a final wave, Giles turned and headed for the gate leading to the plane, Willow and Tara walking hand-in-hand beside him. Buffy watched until they were no longer in sight, then she left the airport and headed for the Magic Box. She grinned at the sight that greeted her when she entered the training room in the back of the shop.

"Spike's a sadist," Dawn wheezed as she completed her final situp, "He's been making me do crunches and pushups all morning! When're we gonna start using the weapons?"

"When you've built up enough muscle to use 'em, Bit," Spike retorted, leaning against the pommel horse with a smirk on his angular face.

"You agreed to let him train you," Buffy reminded the girl.

"Yeah, but I thought he'd be cooler about it than you," Dawn griped as she got to her feet. "Okay," she huffed, "What next?"

Buffy watched Spike preparing her sister for the dangers ahead, and smiled with the confident knowledge that they were more than up to the task.


	23. Chapter 23: Epilogue

**A/N:** And here's the epilogue! It's short, but sweet. I think it's pretty safe to say I'm gonna be writing a sequel pretty soon. Obviously, it'll be an AU Season 7. Hope to see you all there!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this fanfic: **Hercules8, Rachel, RKF22, Vivi H88, TheBlueDragonWolf, allisondasher, Thexjamstervidsx, CailinRua, TieDyeJackson, MoonfootLover, SpaztasticalMaiden13, Tiarna, FanficFemale, ValerieStrong, Nikkilouise, Seapea, Dfect1ve, randyzoopurple, ginar369, KittenOfDoomage, bowlingforvampires, twotoe.** And thanks also to everyone who faved and followed. :-D

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_This is a dead scene forever now._

_Nothing will ever stir._

_The end will never brighten it more than this,_

_Nor the rain blur._

_The water will always fall, and will not fall,_

_And the tipped bell make no sound._

_The grass will always be growing for hay_

_Deep on the ground._

_And I shall stand here like a shadow_

_Under the great balanced day,_

_My eyes on the yellow dust, that was lifting in the wind,_

_And does not drift away._

-_Medusa,_ by Louise Bogan

Deep below the wreckage that was once Sunnydale High School, two entities met before the Hellmouth. One chose to wear the form of Buffy Summers. The other wore the form of a young woman with short, dark hair, green eyes, and a dusting of freckles across her button nose.

"Been a long time," Not-Buffy remarked with a bitter sneer.

The dark-haired girl shrugged, "Hey, you were the one who said you didn't want me visiting so much."

"I didn't want you rubbing in the fact that you could come and go while I'm stuck in this pit," Not-Buffy spat.

The girl sighed, but kept silent. She wasn't about to get drawn into the same old argument of who deserved what. Nor was she going to rise to the obvious bait of her counterpart wearing the very form she once chose. "So," she said instead, "Any particular reason you wanted to see me?"

Not-Buffy scowled. "You've been interfering."

"How d'you figure?"

"You sent those dreams. To the Slayer, the Watcher, those witches. You warned them I was coming."

"I figured they deserved a sporting chance," the girl shrugged, "Oh, and that's not all I did, by the way."

Not-Buffy's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

The girl smirked, "I sent the Slayer a few visions while she was in Heaven. Just showing her what she could've had if her head wasn't buried in the sand. And it worked." The girl smiled at Not-Buffy's growing rage. "I'm afraid I beat you to the punch. The Slayer is with her Intended now. The Claim's been made. It's only a matter of time before the Powers decide to Call the rest."

"I'll stop them," Not-Buffy spat, "I'll kill them all."

"No," the girl shook her head, "I don't think you would have, even if I never stepped in. The Slayer's stronger than even she gives herself credit for. But at least now, the cost won't be so high." She held both hands out in a helpless gesture. "What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic."

Not-Buffy suddenly shifted into a new form; that of the Master. "You're a fool," the First Evil hissed.

"Now, that's no way to talk about your twin," the First Good smiled. Whereas her dark twin took the forms of the dead, she wore the images of those whose lives were yet to be. That was why she was able to appear as Buffy Summers when she visited Michael Poole over a century ago. "Wanna know how I know I'm right?" she indicated the body she currently wore, "Some years from now, this girl's parents are gonna conceive her. I wouldn't be able to look like her if it wasn't inevitable now. And guess who Mommy and Daddy are." Her face split in a delighted grin.

The First Evil shrieked in rage as its twin vanished, leaving only her mischievous laughter behind.


End file.
